Even though things are, well, weird these days with our humans, I never feel Down Dog cuz, every week, I get to innerview one of you pawsome pooches. This week for example, I Innerviewed Bear Firth. He’s 5, a big, hansome mixture of Grrreat Pyrenees an Border Collie: gold with some cream, soft thick coat, an the fluffiest tail I ever saw. I mean EVER. It looked like three foxes got together and generously contributed their tails.
Hard to buh-leeve now, but Bear had a super scary start. Back in his home state of Texas, he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit: I won’t go into detail except to say that it involved the neighbor’s chiggens.
“Howdy,” Bear greeted me and my assistant. “Y’all come right on in.”
After the Wag-an-Sniff, Bear introduced his Mom Sheana; Grandma Kerri; an brother, Fat Randy, a cat. We got comftubble on the porch, right by a liddle lake.
“I understand you got off to a Dismal Dog Biscuits start.”
“You ain’t woofin’! I was one Sorry Mutt. It’s a tad hazy, but my first memrees are bein’ a stray, kinda wild. Didn’t ever have a home. I remember wanderin’ around in the boonies outside of Austin, real banged up, skin-an-bones, matted, dirty as all git-out. I was on my last paws, reckoned I was a goner fer sure.”
“Oh, Woof, Bear!”
“One day I wandered up to this farm and almost CLAPPSED. The Kind Human who owned the farm spotted me an scooped me right up. I was too weak to resist.”
I was writing fast as I could.
“So I became a Barn Dog an things were lookin’ up. I hung out with horses an cows an the Barn Cat. But then It All Went South.”
Bear related the aforementioned Incident with the Neighbor’s Chiggens.
“Even though I was innocent as a newly whelped pup, I had to leave, an was fixin’ to take a trip to The Pound, an we all know what THAT means.”
“Oh, Dog!”
“But the Kind Human called a fren an explained my per-DI-kuh-mutt, and asked if she might could take me in. Just like THAT, she DID! WELL, she turned out to be my Forever Mom!”
“Woof! So how’d you get here?”
“Turns out, Mom usta live here an decided to move back. Took me a while to ree-lize Bad Stuff wasn’t gonna happen to me anymore. An to stop runnin’ away. I wasn’t use to boundries. I had a wild, free spirit, an I could run like the wind. (I still run, but now I return.) Now me an Mom go everywhere together.
“It took some gettin’ use to each other but one day, we had this MOMENT, when we just, well, CHOSE each other, an, right then-an-there became a FAM-ly. Now I know I’m safe, an loved an, best of all, uh-PREE-she-ated.”
I had a moment myself. I hadda wipe my eyes.
Bear continued. “I don’t give a hoot about treats or toys. Never even heard of ’em. My thing is PRAISE! Me an Mom were takin’ classes so I could be a service dog. I have a vest an everything. We hadda paws cuzza this ol’ virus, but we still practice. Then I wear my vest cuz I hafta be SERIOUS.”
“Right now I’m servin’ an internship at Mom’s works, the Mental Health Association. I’m Office Dog. I clock in an out, make Rounds, an practice greetin’ folks an bein’ kind an puh-lite.”
“Any pooch pals?”
“For awhile, I hadda sister. A liddle ol’ Maltese named Neeka. She was an old gal, 15. She ran the house, an barked at me a LOT. I mostly steered clear of her, but I still felt protective, like a Big Brother, ya’ know? I miss her. Then there’s Fat Randy. Ya know, Bonz, I ackshully think that liddle ol’ gal is a dog inna cat suit. Like she’s just one of us pooches. When I’m over at Grampa’s, I hang out with Lowla, a Corgi. An,” (he leaned over, lowered his voice) “just between you an me an the fencepost, I have a big hankerin’ for this sweet liddle Golden Retriever, Miss Maddie. She’s purty as a Texas Bluebonnet.”
“My lips are sealed,” I assured him. “So, how’s it goin’?”
“She won’t give me the time of day.” He sighed. “Funny thing though, her step-sister, who’s a Black Lab, really likes me, I’m pretty sure. Dad-gummest thing.”
“I hear ya’, dog! We’ll never understand ’em,” I sympathized, then wisely changed the subject. “Whaddya do for recreation?”
“I get two leashwalks a day. When we’re in an off-leash location, I can crank ’er up. Then I go all Call of the Wild an run like my wolf ancestors. You can’t beat that with a stick. I don’t bark but, if I hear other pooches in the distance, or a siren, or if there’s a big ol’ Texas-size moon, I throw back my head an howl. Dog, that’s a Rush!”
“I can imagine,” I said, sorta awed.
“I enjoy swimmin’ in the lake! But, all those liddle ol’ lizards you Florida pooches go Crazy Kibbles for? I don’t get it. I mean, what’s the big deal?”
“I guess it’s a Florida thing. Woof, Bear, your story is amazing. You’ve come a looong way.”
“I’m one lucky mutt, no doubt! I work, an play, an have my own food; at bedtime, I snuggle with Mom or Grandma, then go to sleep right out here on the screen porch, where I can see the big ol’ sky, smell the night air, hear the night noises, an still know I’m safe an sound with my Very Own Famly. Nothin’ better’n that.”
Heading home, I was thinkin’ how frenly, happy Bear survived so much to finally find his Forever Famly. Dog, I love happy endings, don’t you? By the way, I’m real proud of all you fellow poocheroos, being the Best Pooches You Can Be for your humans. Keep up the good work!
Till next time,
The Bonz
