This week I yapped with Sonny Yarina, a good-lookin’ orange and white Brittany who’s gettin’ up there, turned 13 March 8. When me and my Assistant drove up, I had no idea that the interview’d almost been canceled. I’m glad it wasn’t, cuz Sonny has an inspirin’ story.
He was right at the door with his Mom to greet us. He had a kind face, and this great big smile.
“Welcome! I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Sonny Yarina. This is my Mom, Gloria. My Dad’s Dave. So, let’s go sit down. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m a bit wobbly here recently.”
I had noticed that he was moving slow, and sorta sideways. “It’s a pleasure,” I said. “But, are you OK?”
He settled himself on the couch. “Oh, yes. Apparently, last night I had what humans call a Stroke.”
“Oh, Woof!” I exclaimed. “I’ve heard about them. That’s Serious Dog Biscuits!”
“True enough. But it’d happened once before, a while back. Mom called my vet, of course. I just sorta wigged out for a bit. Felt kinda weird. Then I felt OK again. This time, I rested, and Mom was right there with me. Then, this morning, I was able to go out in the yard and Do My Doodie. I felt pretty good. And I really wanted to yap with you. So …”
“Well, Sonny, just let me know if you need to stop at any point, OK?”
“Sure will. So, whaddya wanna know?”
“Pretty much, your life story, so far.” My pencil was poised.
“My earliest memories are me and me sibs and our Mom bein’ taken to a Brittany rescue place. Pretty soon, everybody’d been adopted, ’cept me. I was the runt of the litter. Meanwhile, my Forever Mom (to be) had been fostering Brittanys for years, had two at home at the time. She’d fostered a buncha puppies (which is a lotta work) and had decided to never raise a puppy again. Just grown-up pooches.
“Well, the Brittany Rescue people sent out this pik-sure of a 12-week-old puppy lookin’ for a Forever Home.”
“You, right?”
“Yep.”
“Mom musta liked my pik-sure, cuz she asked about my personality, and the Brittany people said I was Middle-of-the-Road, which Mom liked, cuz she didn’t want a pooch who went Nuts and chewed everything in sight, or one who laid around in a heap all day, either. So she broke her No Puppies Ever Again rule, Thank Lassie. We had a Meet-and-Greet in Orlando to be sure we were right for each other. We were.
“Well, I did have a great disposition, but I hadda lotta health problems: mange, a limp, a calcium deficiency (whatever that is), even broken teeth. I decided then and there that, since Mom and Dad were gonna take good care of me, I’d NEVER EVER fuss or get all stubborn. It was the least I could do.
“Turns out, I have this Gift: I get along with all dogs. An not just get along. I love to share: toys, food, humans, furniture, whatever. Not to brag, but I passed my Canine Good Citizenship Test in Puppy Kindergarten, when I was only 1½. An I enjoy teaching. So, since Mom was always fosterin’ pooches, I became her Assistant. When we get a new foster pooch, I make sure he or she gets enough play time. (Humans call it exercise.) When I’m helping pooches smaller than me, I sqwunch way down so I don’t scare ’em.”
“Aww, that’s so thoughtful.”
He grinned.
“An pooches bigger than me, WELL, bring ’em on! Ack-shully, even though they’re bigger, sometimes they’re insecure, in a new place an all. So I try to make ’em comf-tubble an relaxed. An if they wanna be all Alpha, that’s Cool Kibbles, too. They don’t scare me. They learn Basic Manners by followin’ my lead: Sit, Come, Potty Etiquette, House Rules, that stuff. I figure I’ve probly trained at least 30 fosters. An I’m totally good hangin’ out by myself or partyin’ with a buncha pooch pals. Mom says I’m Flexible. Like, I’m easygoing, but also FEARLESS. So, that’s pretty much my job.”
“Woof, Sonny, it’s perfect for you! How’re you feelin’ so far?” I didn’t want him to overdo it on accounta me.
“Ack-shully, pretty good. Hey, wanna meet my little sisters? They’re from Brittany Rescue, too. An you can check out our kennel set-up. It’s Cool Dog Biscuits!”
“Lead the way!”
Sonny carefully stepped off the couch and headed for a hallway, along a row of roomy, fenced kennels with gates inside AND out, to a GI-NORMOUS shady, fenced yard. Pooch Perfect!
Sonny’s Mom opened two gates and out shot a pair of adorable little girls, all barky an bouncy.
“Manners, Ladies!” Sonny said. “This is Mr. Bonzo, the columnist. Bonz, these are my silly sisters, Jen, 12, an Lady, 8.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bonzo!” said Jen.
“We’re gonna go out and play,” said Lady. “Wanna do laps with us?”
The girls ran out to the yard. We followed. “Come’on, Bonz. I’m feeling way stronger today. But I’m not ready for laps yet.”
Heading home, I was thinking how important good teachers are, for us pooches, an humans, too. In my opinion, a good teacher, who really gives a Woof, can make ALL the difference in a pooch’s or human’s life. And I was figuring how to get my Grandma to play Find the String Beans with me.
Till next time,
The Bonz