When Tucker Powers woof-mailed me to request an innerview, he mentioned he was an Affenpinscher so, before I responded, I Googled, so I wouldn’t look like a Total Doof for not knowing what an Affenpinscher is. Did you guys already know? I didn’t.
Well, I found out Affenpinschers are real smart an spunky. Also, their an-cess-ters are German, an they hunt rats, an whoever named ’em thought they looked like monkeys. (The name ackshully means monkey terrier.) Seriously? I chose to withhold judgment on that last part and decide for myself.
Me an my assistant were greeted by a nice lady an a sporty liddle, wirey-haired pooch, all black, with beard and whiskers and floppy eyebrows. Really good poss-chure an very energetic. Very. He also had a nifty underbite.
“Guten TAG, Mr. Bonzo! It’s ME! TUCKer BAKer!” he said, dashing right up for the Wag (wag, wag)-an’-Sniff. “This is my Mom, Karen. I’m one-anna-haff. I’m goin’ to SCHOO-ell. Let’s go sit down, OK?”
“Oh, to be young again,” I mused, as I opened my notebook. “How did you an your Mom find each other?”
“I was born at an official AKC Breeder of Merit in Billings, Montana, which is way up, then turn left. It’s real cold, too. I have PAY-pers an everything. My papers name’s Crisanda’s Tucker Baker, but I can’t be in one of those fancy shows cuz I’m 13 inches tall. Too tall.”
“Bummer,” I sympathized.
“I know, right? I coulda been a (Westminster) contenda.”
After a small moment of silence for his lost show biz opportunity, Tucker continued. “Mom an Dad had a Shi’tzu named Bos’n for 20 whole people years, super old in dog. They sailed all over the world, an they were Snowbirds between Cuh-netti-cut an here. (Bos’n was a Snowbirddog.) But, just before they moved here for good, Bos’n went to Dog Heaven, an, just after they moved, Dad went to People Heaven, an Mom was All Alone. She needed a Loving Pooch Companion.
“She tried the Humane Society first, but couldn’t find The Dog. So she went On Line an found My Breeder. Anna pickshur of liddle ME. An, guess what? I was The Dog! Mom flew inna PLANE out to Montana. The moment we met, we knew we were MFEO, an we flew back to my Forever Home. I wasn’t scared a bit, just excited, but real well-buh-haved. I had my own comfy travel bag so I could peep out, an I was even allowed to be on the empty seat next to Mom (in my bag).
“It musta been weird moving from a real cold place to here,” I commented.
“For sure. Like, up in Montana, us puppies all had litter boxes an …”
“Wait! Wha-at? Litter boxes, like, like …”
“Yes. Like cats. Just like cats. But think about it: up there, in Winter, if we hadda go outside to Do Our Dooty, us AN our Dooty would be frozen solid in 2 seconds.”
“Oh, of course. I never thought about it like that. It totally makes sense.” I felt sorta embarrassed.
“Macht nichts,” Tucker said, letting a bit of his ancestral lang-gwudge slip out.
“At first, Mom crate trained me. I loved my crate. Still do. It’s my Safe Place. When Mom says ‘crate,’ I go right in. When I spot her pocket book on the table, I know she’s going out, an in I go.”
“So whaddya do for fun? Any pooch pals?”
“Oh, SURE! There’s this big ol’ Rhodesian Ridgeback I really like – Argos. He’s so gentle an frenly. We’re neighbors. An Tovee, she’s my size, we have lotsa play dates. Then there’s my human sister Kim’s Labs, Molly an April.
“I have two huge baskets of toys but I’d rather play with Mom. We have this really Cool Kibbles game: FIRST, I grab one of her sox or sneakers. THEN, I dive under the bed where she can’t reach me. So she hasta get a broom an fish her sox and sneakers out. It’s huh-LARRY-us!”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
“I also enjoy the beach (’cept for all that water). I DIG! But, remember that ikky stuff humans called Red Tide? It made me an Mom sneeze an cough so we had to not go for a while. I felt really bad for the fish.
“I like to chase lizards, but not catch ’em. An sometimes we see one of those Bufo Toads, which are big as my water dish an POISON. Have you ever seen one, Mr. Bonzo? They scare the dog biscuits outta me.
“Oh, AN, I’m takin’ a CLASS at Paw Prints called Beyond Puppy, cuz all us stoo-dunts are more than 6 months. I’m learnin’ a buncha important stuff: Sit! an Down! an Come! (usually) an Stay! (meh.)”
His Mom said “Sit!” Boom! down went his front paws. His caboose remained standing. She said “Sit!” again. Boom! down went his caboose. For a second. His enthusiasm was A-Plus, for sure.
“Oh, AN, I hadda adVENchure. Wanna hear about it?”
“Totes!”
“So, when that Hurry-cane, Irma, was comin,’ we hadda uh-vac-u-ate. (Which is stuffin’ a whole buncha blankets an snacks in your car and goin’ Someplace Else as quick as possible at the same time all the other humans and dogs and cars are doin’ it, too.)
“We hadda liddle room in a pooch-frenly place with two other pooches an humans, an we hadda wait, like, forever, an there were no lights. But I wasn’t scared cuz Mom was there. Then we all went back home.”
“Woof! Some adVENchure!”
“Now it’s me an Mom. Every night, I burrow under the covers next to her an fall asleep. It’s The Best. I’m One Lucky Dog!”
Heading home, I was pickshurin’ little Tucker gleefully hidin’ his Mom’s sox under the bed. In spite of his breed name, I didn’t think he looked like a monkey at all. I was also sincerely hopin’ I never came across one of those Bufo Toads.
Till next time,
The Bonz
