Miss Boogie's Adventures Part II

         Miss Boogie was bred to the good life, despite her humble beginnings. You remember, she had been abandoned by her former people in a dumpster in German Village in the dead of winter. Not at all the place for a tiny, tufted, dog often mistaken for a rat. No. Lustron, Clintonville, two moms—much better. Though life in the dumpster made her street wise. She knows how to fend for herself—skills that come in handy.  But I am ahead of myself.  In Clintonville, with her two moms in a Lustron house she has her own window and her own chair.

Miss Boogie prefers to sit in a chair, to sleep on the waterbed and to dine on chicken breast sautéed in butter, garlic, olive oil, basil and capers. She didn’t need to acquire a taste for capers or garlic or truffles. She came by it naturally. Paprikash, kielbasa, cabbage noodles are part of her heritage. Think of the half-eaten pastries, bits of sausage and noodles in that dumpster. It’s enough to make any little dog lick her lips. Just thinking of the delights in that dumpster was enough to drive Miss Boogie to do to do all sorts of things even though she knew they made her Moms unhappy. But what is a Boogie to do?

One Christmas Eve she ate an entire stick of butter while no one was looking. “Did you put the butter away?” “No, I thought you did.” “I didn’t but the dish is clean.” Momentary pause. Then in unison, “Boogie!” The Moms worried Miss Boogie would die. It was an entire stick of butter. They called the emergency vet clinic. “Watch her carefully,” said the concerned vet. Miss Boogie didn’t even get sick. It seems she is from hearty Ohio-European stock with a high cholesterol tolerance.

Miss Boogie’s favorite food is chocolate, though she comes quickly when the word “pizza” is spoken. Her favorite holidays are Christmas, Easter and Halloween—followed by Valentine’s Day. She loves to open presents, especially the truffles sent by various Aunts from Seattle or San Francisco.  In a good year, she can eat or hide an entire box of truffles before her people come home, without damaging the outer wrapping. There is always just a small hole in the bottom corner of the box that looks like a post office accident. “Oh no! Look! The post office damaged the box and all of the truffles fell out.” “That’s horrible.” “We’ll have to thank Chris anyway. She would be so disappointed.”

In a bad year, her people come in just as she is opening the box.

The problem with people is all their silly questions. “Miss Boogie! What are you doing on the table?”  “Miss Boogie, did you do this?” “Miss Boogie, where are all the chocolates?” Sometimes she has to wait for hours under the dresser for them to forget about the truffles.

They usually do forget. That’s how people are.