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*Woof. *Woof *Woof *Woof *Woof. Translation … "Hi. My name is Remmy."
You know, it would take a really long time if Remmy was to continue writing this column. So, I informed him I would just translate what he has to say in order to save a lot of time. And ink.
Thank you for being my guest columnist this week, Remmy. You're a good boy.
"Miss Julie said she will include my picture. Had I known, I would have brushed my fur.
Anyway, she says she speaks dog. Most people just hear me say, 'woof.' Very loudly. She hears something else entirely. For that, I am grateful.
I was born on April 22, 2023. That would make me about one and one-third years old. (I am good at math, she says.)
I am a boy. I know because I still have the proof. (I did hear whispered conversations, however, that I wasn't supposed to hear. And I'm praying things won't change in the future.)
They say I am a Golden doodle, as my daddy was a Poodle and my mommy was a Golden Retriever. They must have been pretty good looking animals because I'm not too shabby, they tell me.
My parents -- not the Poodle and Golden Retriever -- but the other ones -- the human people, they put my picture on something called Bookface.
What? It's not Bookface? I'm a dog. How was I supposed to know?
Whatever it is, Julie knows someone who saw my picture and they called and asked about me.
I guess my people couldn't keep me anymore. I am not sure why. I tried to be a good boy. They tell me it is because the trailer we lived in wasn't very big and there wasn't much of a yard in which to run. And play. I love to run and play. It's my favorite thing to do.
When they took my picture to try to find me a new home, my owners included the chewed-up furniture in the background.
I laid my paws over my eyes and sighed. They gave away my flaws. Yes, my name is Remmy and I like to chew things. But still, lots of people wanted me. For some reason, they decided that I should live with Miss Julie. In Ohio. Even though they didn't know her at all. Toronto is a really far drive from where I used to live.
It took about 70 to 80 minutes to get to my new home. I don't travel very well. I threw up in the car.
But I have to admit, my new house is huge and one big circle that I can go around and around and around and not have to ever stop.
I hope I will like my new home. And I pray that they will not give me away, too. I really need a place I can call my fur-ever home. She said no matter what I do wrong she will keep me and love me for always. Yay!
Please wish me luck with my new person. With my new family. And wish them luck with me. Hopefully we will all be happy together.
P.S. I was hesitant to get in the car when they came to pick me up on Wednesday.
But God whispered in my ear and said that Julie asked him to send her a dog. And I was the one that he chose.
So, the treat I had declined several times earlier, I accepted from her. And I got right in the car with the carefully-placed dog blanket that was waiting for me.
And I didn't make a peep ... well, a woof, all the way home."
(Stenger is the community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times.)