With a name like Jag (short for Jaguar), I figured this week’s innerview-ee would probly be big, scary, really speedy, and/or maybe even – a cat. Except for the speedy part, I was totally WRONG.
Jag Mulvey is a Havanese, weighin’ in at 9 pounds, still mostly puppy at only 8 months old, with short, soft, curly hair, cream-colored with some darker places, anna liddle black beard. The only things big about Jag are his bark an his personality.
After sizing me up from a distance, he approached for the Wag-an-Sniff.
“A gracious good afternoon,” he said puh-litely. “I’m Jaguar Mulvey. Call me Jag. This is my human Kathy. I call her Momma Kat. We are so pleased you’re here.”
“My pleasure,” I replied.
Then he noticed my assistant an hit the Bark Button. He ran around an around barkin’ nonstop. In between barks he was mutterin’, “Gotta protect Momma Kat! Gotta protect the house!”
Jag’s Mom kept assurin’ him my assistant was okey-dokey, while my assistant tried to appear as un-scary as possible. The black mask probly didn’t help. Finally, Jag concluded my assistant was, in fact, okey-dokey, and the barks turned into licks an wags.
“I take my Doody as Protector of Momma Kat Very Seriously!” he stated solumnly.
“I can see that!” I replied. “So, tell me about yourself.”
“OK! Well, Momma Kat always had big dogs. I mean BIG. St. Bernards!”
“Yup, that’s big!”
“First was Humphrey. He was 216 pounds.”
“Yipes,” I thought, “it’d take 24 of Jag to add up to one Humphrey.”
“Then there was Truman,” Jag said.
“He was only 128 pounds.”
“‘Only’ being a relative term,” I thought.
“Anyway,” Jag continued, “when Tru went to Dog Heaven last July, Momma Kat decided she wanted a small dog. She was gonna rescue one, but the rescue place only had big dogs. Then she went up to New York to see her Mom (Gramma Barbara), who had a puppy named Pumpkin, a Havanese like me.
“Well, you see how adorable Havaneses are, right?” (Jag stood on his back legs an did a liddle twirl. He was, in fact, adorable.) “So Momma Kat decided to get a Havanese. She found a REP-pew-tubble breeder in Fort Myers, who sent her pickshurs of the new litters. I was the last un-spoken-for pupper of my litter, an Momma Kat said, ‘I’ll take HIM!’
“So, when I was 10 weeks old, Momma Kat an Gramma Barbara drove down to pick me up. I felt safe an comf-tubble, an napped on Gramma Barbara’s lap the whole way.
“At first, Momma Kat had this sorta playpen for me so I wouldn’t be tem-tud to chew the furniture, and I could get use to everything. It was comfy, but I was a liddle scared at first. It was so-o big. But Momma Kat snuggled with me a lot so I knew everything was OK. Plus, I’m sure she was happy to only need one small Poo Bag on our leash walks instead of a large, Heavy Doody one (an probly a shovel) when walking with Humphrey or Tru.
“I learned the Rools pretty fast, specially that very important Where to Potty an Where to NOT Potty. Cuz Momma Kat is a Very Social Human, she wants me to be Very Social, too. So I go to the Canine Country Club to learn how to buh-have around Fellow Pooches Large an Small. Large is takin’ a liddle longer. I’m doin’ pretty good with humans, also. I ackshully got all A’s on my Canine Country Club report card.
“PLUS, guess what? I’m followin’ in Truman an Humphrey’s pawprints: They were mascots at Quail Valley, where Momma Kat is Very Well Known an in charge of some stuff. So now, cuzza my bein’ so Frenly an Social, I’m Quail Valley’s new mascot. An I still make sure Momma Kat is always safe an secure here at home. Totally Crispy Biscuits, right?”
“Totally!” I replied. Learning how to compartmentalize is an Important skill, impressive in such a young pupster.
“I’m still learnin’ stuff, tho,” Jag continued. “Like, Momma Kat’s shoes. I admit, I occasionally nab one an chew it when the closet door’s open. Same with furniture legs. ’Cept when Momma Kat sprays some ukky stuff on ’em she calls Apple Bitters.
“It’s OK to chew my brown dog stuffy, tho. An my amazin’ ball. It moves by it-SELF! But I Don’t Like the I Robot. It’s s’pose to clean or something but I know it’s ackshully Out To GET Me! It zooms all over the floor an I go bonkers. I run away but it always finds me. So I hide under the chair. What I also don’t like is The Car. It scares me. I cry an whine whenever I hafta go in it.
“I LOVE Walks! When Momma Kat does a liddle walkie thing with her fingers, I rush to the door. We go at least a mile a day. We also snuggle on the couch an watch TV, specially dog stuff like that commercial with a human called Rachel something, anna whole buncha dogs. They bark an I bark back.”
“Any pooch pals?” I inquired.
“My BFF’s a fellow Havanese, Mad Dash, he’s a neighbor. We attend the Canine Country Club together, where we run around with Emma. She’s little, like us, but not a Havanese.”
“How about foodstuffs?”
“I’m NOT into veg-tubbles. Or kibbles. I’m a carnivore, an kinda a picky eater. I like chiggen an liverwurst. An cheese treats.
“At night I flop into my own Very Big Bed (it used to be Truman’s). I lay on my tummy with my back legs out to the sides like a frog. Momma Kat thinks it’s funny. She says I’m ‘a keeper.’ An I say she’s one, too. All in all, I’m one happy boy.”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about exuberant liddle Jag: exactly the right pooch at exactly the right time, so he an his Forever Mom can share lots of Happily Ever Afters.
Till next time,
