In the past few weeks I’ve innerviewed the teeniest an the biggest pooches of my career, reminding me that, under the fur, us dogs are wa-ay more alike than different: 160-pound pooches can be just as puppy-ish an cuddly as 4-pound pooches; an 4-pound pooches can be just as fearless and brave as 160-pound pooches, when woof comes to shove.
Tolstoy Beckwith, who just had his first birthday at Christmas, is definitely in the large pooch category, an one of the sweetest, frenliest, gentlest dogs I’ve ever innerviewed. He’s a Newfoundland, an my pooch ladyfren Sydney Remington’s brother.
Soon as the door opened, there was Tolstoy, wiggling an wagging, anna lady. He had the thickest fur; large webbed paws; an a kind, happy face. (He seemed a liddle wet around the edges, but I didn’t wanna stare.)
“Hello! I’m Bonzo, an this is my assistant. You must be Tolstoy. It’s a pleasure.”
He approached for the Wag-an-Sniff. “Da, that’s me! Welcome! This is my Mom Ridgely an my Dad Dima. My pooch stepbrother Bodie is somewhere around here. He’s a Golden Ruh-TREE-ver. My human brother Sterling’s out by the pool with his Companion Lady. He’s 2. My baby brother Casper’s nappin’. He’s almost bran new, only 7 months. Come’on, we’ll sit on the porch.
“You can call me Tolly, an I’ll call you Bonz, OK?”
“Absolutely!”
Out by the pool, Sterling, under the watchful eye of his Companion Lady, was playing with a hose. Thus the damp fur, I said to myself. Tolly was givin’ my assistant welcoming nudges an nose bumps, an showin’ a lotta interest in The Satchel, probly cuzza the turkey-an-sweet-puh-tado treats inside, which we shared later.
“I understand you have a Cool Kibbles tail to tell.”
“Lemme go check on my liddle bro, then I’m ready,” he said, trotting out to Sterling, who was just about as tall as Tolly’s head. The liddle guy laughed an gave Tolly a small squirt with the hose. Tolly gave him a nuzzle, trotted back, and began.
“It was almost Christmas 2019. Mom was PREG-nut. That means she was gonna have a puppy, er, rather, a BAY-bee. You probly don’t know this, but PREG-nut human ladies sometimes really, really, really want stuff like pickles or ice cream or an entire jar of peanut butter. But not Mom. SHE wanted another dog. She an Dad talked about it, but hadn’t made any spuh-SIFF-ick plans. Or so Dad thought.”
“Here it comes,” I smiled to myself.
“Mom decided to get Dad his First Very Own Dog as a surprise Christmas present. It hadda be kind, gentle an big enough to not get stepped on or run over by playful liddle humans. After some Serious Research, she found a Very Good Breeder in Pencil-VANE-yuh, an chose a puppy who had spent his very first weeks living in the breeder’s house with four liddle human grrrls, so he was use to kidlets.”
“YOU! It was YOU!” I exclaimed. “Crispy Biscuits!”
“DA!” he said. “I’ve loved humans, ’specially liddle ones, my entire life. One whole year so far.
After I had all my shots an stuff, Mom stealthily arranged for a Puppy Transport Service to fly me from Pencil-VANE-yuh to Florida, where I would secretly stay with my Gramma Kate until the Big Christmas Reveal. For the flight, I was snuggled into a carrier (it was ackshully a Kitten Carrier, but don’t tell anyone). My human escort delivered me right to Gramma Kate’s door in Vero Beach.
“Finally, the Big Day arrived. Everybuddy was happy an excited, so I was, too. Gramma Kate spiffed me all up with a big red bow, an we drove over to Mom an Dad’s house. Gramma went in an I waited patiently, curled up in the passenger seat in all my adorableness. Dad was at his computer, an Gramma Kate asked IF he’d get some stuff outta the car. Dad had no clue. He was like, ‘Sure.’ “Well, Dad opened the car door an THERE I WAS.
“He was in SHOCK. He couldn’t buh-LEEVE I was a Real Dog, not a toy. A Real, Ack-shull Dog! He was like, ‘No WAY!’ He scooped me up an cuddled me an, I KNEW then he was my Forever Dad. So I gave him lotsa slurpy puppy kisses. Best. Christmas. EVER!”
“Totally Pawsome! So, what was it like at first?”
“It took Bodie a liddle while gettin’ use to me. Now that I’m big as him (ackshully bigger), we’re pals. He’s Head of the House, an I’m, like, ‘whatever.’ Me an Stirling are Total Besties. Mom says we get into MISS-chuff! But Bodie’s the one who taught me how to open all kinds of doors. I enjoy tug, an runnin,’ an swimmin’ (’cept for I get Ear Troubles). I also love diggin’ an jumpin’! I can clear an 8-foot fence no problem. Me an Mom an Dad are still havin’ diss-CUSS-shuns about that, however. Then there’s Toilet Paper. Me an my sister Sydney have this Famly Trait. We love to rip toilet paper into teensy pieces. I can’t be left alone with toilet paper.”
“Yes, she did mention something about that,” I acknowledged. “How’d you get that Cool Kibbles name?”
“Dad picked it cuz he’s Russian an Tolstoy was, too. He wrote this famous book called ‘War an Peas.’ My full name’s Tolstoy Bear Beckwith, which means Fat Bear. Isn’t that so funny?”
“Whatta great name!”
“I’m from Pencil-VANE-yuh, but I did learn three Russian words outta appreciation for Dad’s heritage. Da means Yes; Nyet, No; suh-BAH-ka, dog.”
“I’m gonna remember that one. What’s your mealtime an bedtime routine?”
“We eat People Food. Whatever Dad eats. Sometimes he pretends he’s a suh-BAH-ka, too, which is huh-LARRY-us! At bedtime, we usually curl up on the sofa, but sometimes I prefer the cool tile floor. Cuzza my super thick coat, I hafta get groomed every two weeks. I wanna be a good representative of my breed, ya know?”
I told him he totally was. Heading home I was thinkin’ about Tolly’s wonderful Christmas surprise. An how lovin’ an gentle he was with his liddle brother.
Till next time,