This week I yapped with Branco Chambers, a han-some, athletic Portuguese Water Dog who comes from a line of champions and followed in their pawsteps. But he isn’t a Snobnose at all.
Branco an his liddle step-brother Jaegger came up for Wag-an-Sniffs. Then we all settled in.
“It’s great to meet you Bonz. May I call you Bonz? I feel like I know you cuz we always read your column.”
“Well, thanks, Branco. Sure, Bonz is fine.”
He introduced his Mom, Lori, an Jaegger, a mix who was totally rockin’ a man bun. “Me an Jaegger are best frens,” Branco said. “I always protect my liddle bro. He’s just three anna half. He’d be lost without me. An, dog, can he swim. He thinks he’s a Portie, too.”
I opened my notebook. “I can’t wait to hear about your competition background an your histry.”
“Stop me if I yap too fast. Mom’s been training Porties for a long time. She taught me evrything I know. She had two Porties before me, both AKC champs. Buh-lieeve me, I had big paws to fill. BIG! Bacchus, my half brother, won so many trophies an ribbons an medals you can’t even count ’em.
“After he went to Dog Heaven, an Mom finally felt up to it, she wanted a puppy from the same pooch dad. Well, there’s this innersting thing humans figured out how to do: they saved special puppy-making stuff from our Dad an used it to make more puppies. So that’s how I came along. That was 12 years ago.”
“Woof! I never heard of that! That’s Majorly Cool Dog Biscuits!” I exclaimed.
“I KNOW! Right? Anyway, I guess I got all the Portie skills my Dad an Bacchus had, cuz, with Mom’s training, I’ve done pretty well.”
“You’re not Woofin’ about that! So tell me about the competitions.”
“As you probly know, Porties are in the Workin’ Group. We always HAFTA have a job. Our ancestors worked for Portuguese fishermen, guarding the boats an nets in port, retrievin’ stuff that fell overboard, and carryin’ messages from boat to boat. They’d leap off the boats and swim, swim, swim. They hadda be strong an fearless. Plus, they also herded fish.”
“Shut the doghouse door! Are you woofin’ me right now?”
“No woof! They’d swim in circles around the fish an ackshully herd ’em toward the boats. So that’s kinda what we do in our water competitions, except the herdin’ part: we don’t use ackshull fishing boats, tho. The trainer (Mom) rows us out in the water on a liddle boaty/rafty thing and another boaty/rafty thing goes out with just humans. Mom throws a pouch into the water and, when I get the signal, I take a flying leap off the boaty/rafty thing and swim to it, grab it, an swim to the other boaty/rafty thing and one of the humans takes it. Then I swim back to Mom. We hafta show we’re eager, intense, pawsome swimmers and retrievers. I always pretend I’m on a Portuguese fishing boat dog, way out in the ocean, swimmin’ fearlessly through the wind an waves, carryin’ a real important message that HAS to be delivered or it’ll be curtains for the free world.”
“Woof, Branco, you sure do get into it.”
“Yup. It works, too. I almost always win. I don’t wanna brag, but I was one of the youngest Portuguese Water Dogs ever to earn a water title in competition. I was only 6 months old. I’m a Master Agility Champion, too. That’s running over, under, around an through stuff as fast as you can.”
I’d been noticin’ Branco’s haircut. Very On Trend. Lotsa wavy hair from sniffer to shoulders, real full around his head an shoulders, and super short from shoulders to caboose. I asked about it.
“This is sorta like the original cut our ancestors had, so they could swim faster, without a lotta heavy wet hair draggin’ ’em down, but still keepin’ their chests warm. This is called a Lion Trim. It’s s’pose to make me look strong an regal. Whaddya think?” He sat up straight and put a Very Serious Expression on his face.
“I think you look like a Rock Star. Definitely Top Dog. Do you still compete?”
“No. I’m kInda getting Up There. But I still practice an stay in shape, eat raw veggies and fruit an chiggen. I still belong to the Vero Beach Agility Club, an me an Mom run a mile anna half every day. Plus, now I’m doing something that’s just as fun, an I ackshully think it’s more important than fame an glory.”
“No Woof? What?”
“See, Mom doesn’t teach just pooches, she also teaches people. She’s what’s called a Special Ed teacher, an her students have Difficult Circumstances. So she thought I might be able to help ’em by lettin’ ’em read stories to me. Some other dogs do it, Mom told me, and since I am well-behaved and frenly, an I love liddle humans, I agreed. Well, Bonz, it was wunnerful! The kids sat in a circle around me, an you wouldn’t buh-LEAVE how many pats an tummy rubs I got. They were laughing and all happy. They took turns readin’ to me and showing me the picksures, even. Sometimes they’d hold my paw. I coulda spent the whole day with ’em. They even wrote letters to me later. There was this one liddle girl who had never, ever, ever read in the circle. Not even one word. But one day, when it was her turn and Mom gently passed the book to her, she put her hand on my fluffy paw. And began to read. Honestly, Bonz, just thinkin’ I had helped a liddle human have con-fuh-dunce is better than the best blue ribbon I ever got, you know?”
“I think I do, Branco.” I wiped my eyes with my paw. “I think I do.”
Till next time,
The Bonz