This week I innerviewed only my second Newfoundland, a bee-OOOTIE-full grrrl named Sydney Remington, who just turned 1 at Christmas and is still adorably puppyish. She’s got a super soft, thick black coat with white bib; white sox with black polka dots; an the same kind brown eyes as my other Newfoundland pooch pal Togi Dunks.
Sydney was right at the door, all happy an waggy. “Oh, boy, it’s you, Mr. Bonzo! I’m so excited you’re gonna write about ME.” She bounced against my assistant a few times an jumped up once, too, like any other puppy would, but about six times bigger.
“Oops! ’Scuse me. I keep forgetting. I’m not s’pose to Jump Up. Also, I’m s’pose to do something else. But I forgot what.”
“Probly the Wag-an-Sniff,” I prompted.
“Oh, RIGHT!” She trotted over. Then, “There was something else, also. Oh poo!”
“Possibly intro-DUCK-shuns?” I suggested.
“YES! That’s IT! Thanks, Mr. Bonzo! This is my Mom, Liz, an my Dad, Peter. Now let’s go sit down.”
We did. I opened my notebook an Sydney nosed around in my assistant’s satchel, which usually contains Treats.
“Well, Miss Sydney, how ’bout you start by telling me how you an your Mom an Dad found each other?”
“Well, my Mom had always had Labradors, but Mom an Dad had been Dog Free for a while. It was around Christmas a year ago an Mom was like, ‘WE NEED A DOG!’ At a Christmas party, they met a Newfoundland puppy named Tolstoy (aka Tollie) who buh-longed to my Mom’s son’s stepsister, who lives right near us. Tollie was irresistible; Mom was captivated; Dad was more like ‘meh’.”
“Then what happened?”
“Tollie’s Mom told my Mom there was only one puppy left in his litter: his sister. She showed her a baby pickshur. It was ME!”
“Shut the doghouse door!”
“Well, the second Mom saw the pickshur, that was IT!”
Sydney showed me the pickshur. Sure enuff, she was the kind of fluffy, big-eyed pupper that humans totally can’t resist.
“It was only then,” Sydney continued, “that they found out I was in Phil-uh-DELL-fee-uh. They hadda fly up to get me, then fly me back. But I wasn’t the usual liddle puppy that fits in one of those under-the-seat carriers. I was only 10 weeks old but already weighed 20 pounds, which is the LIMIT. Plus, there was the Fluff Factor, which took up more space, you know? They hadda figure it out. It was a duh-llama.
“Dad’s a retired pie-lutt, so him an Mom did a buncha research to figure out how to get me back without TRAH-muh or breaking any ROOLS. Since I barely made the weight limit, Thank Lassie, they stuffed me in the carrier, which wasn’t that bad, ackshully, an scooched it under their seats.
But, guess what? The plane was almost empty (an I was a Very Quiet, Puh-lite Pupper), so a nice human who I think was In Charge said I could come out an sit in the seat between Mom an Dad, which I did for the whole way down. It was my first ad-VEN-chure!”
“Crispy Biscuits! What was it like arriving at your Forever Home?”
“I took to MY House right away. Mom an Dad had everything all ready for me. I LOVED it.”
“What about exercise? Foodstuffs? Toys? Pooch Pals?”
“Me an Mom have a Morning Roo-TEEN: She gets comfy in her Happy Place Chair and I sit beside her. She has her coffee an reads, then we go for a walk on the beach. Since my ancestors worked draggin’ fishermen’s nets outta the Super Cold Water, I have A Strong Urge to drag stuff outta the water, also. However, on our beach, there isn’t that much stuff to drag out, except sometimes liddle kids, which would be a Very Bad Idea. So Mom throws coconuts into the water and I drag THEM out.”
I nodded. “Very Wise.”
“Me an Mom also play Reverse Fetch. I hide my ball wa-ay under the sofa or bookshelf. Then Mom fetches it. She hasta scooch WAY down. I hafta admit, I kinda murder most of my toys. An, full disclosure: Toilet Paper!”
“Um, toilet paper?” I replied.
“I don’t know why, but I have this thing – Toilet Paper Must Be Destroyed!! So, well, I destroy it. It’s like My Sworn Duty.”
“Humm. Intresting,” I commented.
“’Cept my favrite stuffy, my Giant Lamb.”
She dragged it over. It was indeed huge. Obviously munched on but not ripped to smithereens.
“I LOVE goin’ out to The Barn,” Sydney continued. “I get to run all over the place. An hang out with my step-sister Keiki. She’s a Horse. PLUS, when she gets a special peppermint treat, I get one, too. Honestly, Mr. Bonzo, I really love all humans and fellow animals. Me an Mom an Dad sit on the Red Couch an watch TV in the evening. I love watchin’ TV, specially that one they call ‘Yellowstone.’ But, when somethin’ bad happens to a human or animal on TV, I get upset. It just seems so real, you know?”
“I do. I bet you have lotsa frens?”
“Oh, yes! There’s Rocky, he’s LARGE. He’s a Bernese Mountain Dog. My human sibs Logan, Gaby, Tori an Mason; my neff-yous Knox, he’s Gaby’s dog, an Duncan, he’s Tori’s dog, an Io, a Husky, he’s Mason’s pooch.”
“Any favrite foodstuffs?
“My favirte snacks are carrots an kale,” she replied.
“Kale? Woof! You’re the only pooch I know who likes kale. Or even knows what it is.”
Another innerview had gone by so fast. Heading home, I was thinking about bee-OOOTIE-full Sydney and her heartwarming love of all creatures great an small. I also realized I don’t ackshully know what kale is either, an planned to Google before bedtime.
