The Heart of Max
The Heart of Max is a short, touching memoir written by the owner’s hand through the eyes of Max, a spunky and loving Australian terrier. Max adored his Poppi and treats, and always knew what his family needed — at least in Max’s own opinion. All his life, he gave love, laughter, and companionship, and his flair for mischief and sense of adventure kept his family on their toes. A portion of the sale of his story will go to the Australian Terrier Trust, to help support the future good health of this special breed.
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~ Excerpt ~
by Max Jones
as expressed to Ina Louise Jones
Poppi had things I couldn’t play with: tubes winding around on the floor, dangling wires, a nebulizer which made a funny noise like a hair dryer at the doggie spa, and a growling air compressor that my master said sounded like a ship’s turbine engine.
Of course, I adapted brilliantly to it all and even to the “No!” stuff, for I’m an Australian terrier, a small, tenacious, confident breed of canine — a unique and handsome dog, if I may say so myself.
I’m Max, and I really appreciate your taking the time to read my story. You’ve probably enjoyed books or movies about talking dogs before, but if any dog says he can talk, they’re not telling the truth.
Yet, we doggies can relate our lives … if only people would open their hearts and imaginations …
This is my tale as understood by my owner, my friend and companion, and I think she knows me pretty well. Poppi called her Ina, but I call her “Yip” because when I yip, she always comes to me. She’s really clever.
As I mentioned, I’m an Australian terrier. We’re an interesting and dignified canine, originating from a mix of various terrier breeds, some say from the Yorkshire and Cairn terriers “down under” in Australia, with Silkies thrown in for good measure. I was born January 8, 2006, at a breeding and boarding facility for beautiful dogs like me on the west coast of Florida. I’ve been told that I am a truly special mix of terrier.
Long before my littermates and I were whelped, Poppi and Yip decided it might be a good time to get a puppy. Their home was empty of the furry and fuzzy after losing their last pet, a feline (cat), to old age. After about a year without hairy dust balls billowing across the tile, or fuzz decorating the living room furniture, they figured it was time for another pet.
They reasoned, rightly, that having the perfect dog would allow them to take those calm walks in the balmy Florida evenings, or relax while watching television with their sweet doggie at their feet, who would look lovingly and longingly into their eyes and enjoy being patted on the head or scratched under the chin after being rubbed on its tummy, but … I knew what they really needed.
On March third, almost eight weeks to the date of our birth, Poppi and Yip traveled across Florida to make their choice of available puppies.
We little ones were tiny and adorable — all real charmers and anxious for special people to take us home with them. We each wore a different colored yarn around our necks for humans to tell us apart when they came to choose a puppy. My yarn was red, and of course, I was called Mr. Red.
Enter John and Ina, otherwise properly known as my Poppi and Yip.
Since they were the first people to place a deposit on a puppy, they had the first choice — or so they thought. You see, I just knew I was going home with them. After all, I’m an Australian terrier, courageous, and extremely instinctive.