I have a new pal. His name is Chad. There's a photo of Chad, explaining the ways of the world to his staff. Chad and I didn’t exactly meet nose-to-nose (or nose-to-tail, as is so often the case with terriers). Let me tell you about it.

Chad, on the job at Chad's Rags, surrounded by his hard-working staff.

Yesterday, 2 May, I went to a birthday party at a lake. There was a bubble machine. There was also a Papillion (Snack Group!), but that’s another story. Now for those of you without bubble experience, it’s rather an ephemeral encounter. Thousands of bubbles rise into the cosmos. At first glance they appear similar . . . simple enough . . . and yet each one is unique. Some are large, some small. Some join with other bubbles. Each occupies its own space . . . each has its own agenda. If you’re quick, and I am, you can catch them in your mouth. But then, in the wink of an eye, they’re gone. What makes them rise? Who knows. Where do they go? I can’t begin to imagine. What I do know is that they’ll make you crazy. You can’t catch them all. There are too many, and they’re too quick – fleeting little characters, they are. No, you’ll never contain all of them – don’t even try. It was exhausting. I missed my dinner last night because I was tired from playing so hard. So I went to bed hungry.

I was sleeping soundly last night, on the big bed, of course, and I was dreaming of bubbles. Suddenly I heard a voice. Was I awake, was I still sleeping? I’m not certain. Yes, I was famished -- no dinner, you know -- so maybe I was dreaming of edibles. I thought the voice said green beans. Green beans?!? Who wakes-up to the words green beans? Was this a joke? I’m not completely sure what a green bean looks like.

I laid down my little head and tried to get back to my bubble dream, but again, there was the sound: "Green beans." I got up to investigate. I checked all the windows: nothing. Nut-Meg was asleep on the man’s feet, as usual. Anyway, Meg has no concept of any kind of bean; so it couldn’t have been her. I made my way to the kitchen.

Ah ha! My dinner bowl was gone. In its place was another bowl. One of their bowls. Inside the alien bowl was my dinner. Mmm. And then I was reminded, I was starving! Time for a late-night snack. Then I saw it! Also in the bowl, sort of dried-out, was the last morsel or two of a green bean. No, I’m not kidding. The bowl had evidently been used to serve someone some green beans. Now is it just my opinion, or was this an odd occurrence? I ate the puppy chow and went to nest on the ottoman in my den, still wondering about hearing the voice that said green beans.

Before I fell asleep, I heard the voice again. It was another dog! Not just any dog: it was a terrier! Not just any terrier: a Wire Fox Terrier, one of my favorites. Where was the voice coming from? I looked all around. No dog. The dog’s voice seemed to come from one step beyond.

It was Chad, and yes he is a Wire Fox. I knew I’d heard a Wire Fox. He said he’d seen me with the bubbles. He wanted to chat. A chat with Chad? Well, OK. We chatted . . . or should I say Chadded, because Chad did most of the chatting. He’s very interesting, and he offered some great tales as well wisdom. I’ll share Chad’s conversation -- at least the part that’s not confidential.

Chad pauses from his designing duties.

Until a couple of weeks ago Chad lived in the west, where ever that is. I’m not sure where Chad lives now. He tried to explain, but I didn’t understand. What I did understand is that Chad has lots of new friends: a dog named Skippy, a dog named Jammer, Jenny, someone named ChiChi, who Chad says is definitely not a terrier, but is cute, nonetheless. Too many terriers to name. He’s busier now than he’s ever been; so I’m thrilled that Chad had time to chat with me. Chad’s had an exciting life. Once upon a time he was placed in the back of a pick-up truck. Chad knows that this is illegal in most states. Chad fell out of the truck. DUH! That’s too exciting, if you ask me. Sometimes uprights can be so feeble-minded. Personally, I’d like to bite the idiot who put Chad in the back of a truck; but evidently Chad has forgotten all about that. Rather decent of him, I thought. Chad says that the important thing is that the fall eventually landed him in the home of his lady, where he lived until a few weeks ago . . . eating his favorite food, green beans!

The later part of Chad’s life was spent managing a commercial empire -- Chad's Rags. I’m not sure what that means. I think that Chad spent his days working to help his lady, much the same way I do. We have that in common, Chad explained. I think that Chad’s industry was much more interesting than mine. I help with chairs and furniture. Chad performed some of the most glamorous work a terrier can do – designing woolen finery for chilly terriers. Sort of the Adrienne Vittadini of the terrier world. Chad encouraged me to work hard and be more of an inspiration for my uprights. That’s a challenging and important dog duty, according to Chad. Being a muse isn’t easy, but Chad thinks I can do it. I trust Chad’s judgment.

Chad commends Miss Bunny on a job well done.

Chad fared well . . . a bon vivant of the Wire world. Chad delighted in the dandiest dames that life had to offer, and that evidently included his lady and someone called Miss Bunny. Ah yes, Chad was loyal only to his lady . . . and to Miss Bunny. Miss Bunny worked with Chad in the fashion industry. Chad had lots of employees, but there was only one Miss Bunny. I suppose she’s still there, holding down the fort. I’d like to get to know this Miss Bunny.

Chad thinks I’m cute. Oh heck, everyone thinks I’m cute. I AM cute! Evidently Chad is quite a cutie, too . . . and a dapper dresser. Chad was a ladies’ chap. The ladies loved him. But Chad says that he never committed to any one terrier-gal. A bounder, he. Ay, Chad was too busy to hang his hat on one gal’s bedpost. I told Chad that he was like a bee. A happy, busy bee. Like a bumble bee, Chad could only flit from flower to flower . . . or from gal to gal. I don’t know a lot about bubbles, but I know a little bit about bees.

Chad liked my bee comparison. Chad knows this man named Victor . . . Mr. Hugo, to you and me. I suppose they just met. Mr. Hugo says that nothing is so like a soul as a bee. It goes from flower to flower as a soul from star to star, and it gathers honey as a soul gathers light. Chad quite agrees.

As Chad told me, one day it was time for Chad’s light to move on and leave his lady. I asked, How did she ever agree to let you go? Smart as he is, Chad has no answer for that. He knows that his lady misses him. Chad says, "Jill, wouldn’t your lady be sad without you?" Oh Chad, I said, You can’t possibly imagine! Chad says that he can indeed imagine, but that sometimes "a terrier’s got to do what a terrier’s got to do." Well, I certainly understood that! Chad’s absolutely right. We terriers definitely have our own agenda.

And that brought the talk back to bubbles, and my bubble day. Chad says that he’s like the bubbles now. He’s got a new agenda – a journey in the cosmos. At first glance he’s still a terrier, and yet Chad is very unique. Perhaps he’ll join with other terriers to help young pups like me. If you’re quick (and remember, I am) you might catch a glimpse of Chad. But then, in the wink of an eye, he’ll be gone. What makes Chad travel on this journey? Exactly what is his agenda? Who knows. Where does Chad go? I can’t begin to imagine. What I do know is that if you ponder this too long, it will make you crazy. Chad’s soul is just like one bubble. You can’t catch them all. There are too many, and they’re too quick – fleeting little characters, they are. No, you’ll never understand all of them – don’t even try.

Chad models part of his patriotic fall line.