Even though I’ve been a journalist for a lo-o-ong time, interviewed hundreds of pawsome poocheroos, I gotta admit, I was sorta nervous this week, heading off to interview a big celebrity in the dog world – a Bone-a-fied Top Dog. Elijah Hill is a Canadian and American Grand Champion Red Doberman. He’s also a Snowbird-dog, who lives with his humans in Indian River Shores and Connecticut.
We rang the bell. I adjusted my ruff and fluffed my ears. The door opened and there was this pretty, smiley lady and, right behind her, there he was, shiny deep red coat, dark pointy ears, amazing posture, built like a brick doghouse, and that long, regal Doberman snout.
While I was trying to get my mouth to work, he came right up for the Wag-and-Sniff. “Hey,” he said, all friendly. “It’s The Bonz! I’ve wanted to meet you. Heard so much about you! Come right on in! These are my humans, my Mommy Gill and my Daddy Joe.”
“Likewise,” I said, thinking, “He’d been wanting to meet me? He’d heard about me? That is Seriously Cool Dog Biscuits!”
Even when we were all sitting down, he looked regal, like those dog show pictures. “Show Biz must be so exciting. But how did you end up with an actual family? I thought Show Dogs were always on the road, with their trainers.”
“You’re absolutely right, Bonz. I led that crazy life from a very young age. Almost as soon as I was whelped, the kennel humans started talking about training me and showing me. I don’t like to brag but I was a quick learner, and since my Mom and Dad were good-looking pooches, I came out that way, too. In dogshowbiz, you have to start in the puppy classes, then, if your trainer thinks you’re good enough, you just keep working your way up. Well, I was having a ball and I just kept moving up. I made it to my first Championship at 11 months – usually takes 2-3 years. And I just kept nailing those shows until I had achieved the American Kennel Club’s U.S. and the Canadian Grand Champion trophies.”
“Woof!”
“The older dogs would stand around the water bowls and yap behind my back because I kept beating ’em. But I didn’t let that get to me. I mean, when you got it, you got it, right?”
“Dog bone right! And you sure got it!” I said.
“I’ve never been a shy sorta pooch. I’m very competitive! I love the spotlight, the excitement of the ring, the applause. That’s when I really show my stuff! And,” he lowered his voice and winked, “the lady dogs couldn’t keep their paws off me. But,” he lowered his voice even more, “you know what they say. . .”
I didn’t, but I nodded, hoping I looked cool.
“What happens at the AKC Championships stays at the AKC Championships.”
Trying not to sound too starstruck, I inquired, “Don’t showdogs always use those long, fancy kennel names?”
“Yes, we do.” He stood up and struck That Show Pose. You know the one: head up, nose out, front feet forward, back feet back, tummy in, chest out. “My full name is Caleb’s Chariot of Fire.”
“Woof!” I repeated cleverly, wondering if it’d seem totally doofy to ask for his pawprint.
He laughed and plopped back down. “Yeah, I know. But you can’t take all the hoopla too seriously. It’s your Mom and Dad’s genes after all, nothing you actually did. But dog, was it fun!”
“So, do you still compete?”
“No. I’d planned to stay in the Biz, but life took a different turn. Up in Connecticut, Mommy and Daddy had owned Red Dobermans for 40 years. Their last Dobie, Wesley, had just won his first championship when he suddenly had a heart attack and went to Dog Heaven. They were devastated. When Wesley’s kennel humans found out, they offered Mommy and Daddy Wesley’s half-brother, even though they had planned to show him. Long story short – that was me.
“Mommy and Daddy took me to my puppy training and went with me to classes and then to shows, till I reached the top. They coulda sent me out on the road with my trainer for months to campaign for an invitation to Westminster, but we decided I’d just be a family dog. Plus the show circuit costs Big Bucks! Me and Daddy joke around a lot. I call him The Wallet. I’m actually Mommy’s companion, and Daddy says he wants to “come back” as me, but I know he loves me, even though he treats me like a regular dog. Anyway we all three retired, and became snowbirds. And here we are.”
“Was it hard to adjust?”
“You’d think so,” he replied, “but actually it wasn’t, although I still feel like Top Dog. When we go for walks, I always prance and look my best, like I’m in The Ring, so the other pooches know it’s ME. Yeah, I see the looks. I don’t really hang out with them too much. I still have my appendix and I’m a total Alpha, you might have noticed.”
I had.
Just then Elijah’s Dad walked by. They gave each other fond looks.
“Mommy’s Boy,” his Dad said.
“Lunkhead,” Elijah replied.
We all laughed.
Till next time,
The Bonz
