Woof, did I have a fun innerview with three super well-groomed, frenly, enthusiastic Boxers with lots of intresting tails to tell.
They greeted me an my assistant in their yard, wearin’ harnesses cuzza all their energy an outgoin’ doganalities. Doak Campbell Gilmore is the oldest, 5, so he was Spokespooch, and trotted right up for the Wag-an-Sniff. His coat was golden fawn color with white trim.
“Howdy there, Bonz, it’s OK callin’ you Bonz, right? I’m Doak Gilmore. (We’re Major FSU fans.) I’m from Air-uh-ZONE-nuh. This liddle gal” (he nose-bumped a pretty, shiny black Boxer, smallest of the three) “is our sister, Choctaw Lil Lady, just turned 1. An this silly muffin” (an ex-ZOOBER-ently bouncin’ brindle) “is Buster the Biscuit Posey, he’s 11 months.
We mostly call him Biscuit. He goes UP a lot, jus’ so you know. An these are our Mama an Papa, Kris an Chuck.”
“Welcome, Mr. Bonzo,” Choctaw said sweetly.
“Miss Choctaw, Doak, Biscuit, it’s a pleasure to meet you all!” We followed them into the open garage. On the wall was a fancy sign that said “Doak’s Gym: Where Muscle Matters.”
“Woof! You gotta GYM? Cool Kibbles!”
“Yeppers! We train every day. I’m in charge. Mama an Papa retired from cuh-rears in Law Enforcement, an we’re always goin’ on excitin’ ad-VEN-churs, so we gotta stay in shape, ya know?”
“Totally,” I agreed, then saw what Doak meant when he said Biscuit goes UP. Biscuit put his front paws on my assistant’s shoulders by way of greeting, an received lots of ear friffles an head pats in return.
“Yup!” said Doak. “Biscuit’s our goofy liddle brother. Gets in trubble all the time. Can’t be left alone for long. Took a whole string of lights off the Christmas tree. Didn’t knock the tree over, either. An once he ate the squeakers outta two squeaky toys an hadda get his stomach pumped.”
“Did you HAFF to share that?” Biscuit grumped.
We moved inside and sat around a table. Biscuit, who had put his front paws and big smiley face on my assistant’s lap, nudged my notebook. “What’s THAT? Are you gonna WRITE stuff? About US? Doak said you were! About Me, even? LIke, I have a pawsome pooch sitter, Maddie! She’s 12. Mama says ‘It Takes a Village’ to raise me, whatever that means. What’s in that satchel? Is that your pencil? Can I chew it?”
When Biscuit turned his attention to a Large, Durable Chew Toy, and Miss Choctaw curled at their Mama’s feet, I addressed Doak. “How’d the three of you find your Forever Famly?”
“It wasn’t what you’d call a direct path,” he smiled. “Back in 1990-ish, Mama and Papa were lookin’ for a boxer pup and found one they loved. But when they went to pick him up, their car wouldn’t start, and the pup got another famly. Mama and Papa were bummed. So they had Pugs for a while. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, in 2006-ish, their son Ryan got a Boxer, Isabel, nicknamed Izzy. Whenever Papa’d come home from work, Izzy’d do the liddle dance lotsa us Boxers do when we’re excited an happy, the Wriggly Bean. Papa totally loved Izzy’s greeting an, when Ryan an Izzy moved out, he Totally Missed it. Then, unbeknownst to Papa, Mama got another Boxer pup, Renegade, as a surprise. When Papa came home from work, in full uniform an all his gear, there was Renegade, fluffy an adorable. Papa totally melted. He plopped right down on the floor an cuddled her an that’s when they started havin’ excitin’ Road Trips an ad-VEN-churs all over the country, Mama, Papa an Renegade.
“Then Mama decided she wanted a Boxer, too. She found me in FEE-nix an picked me from my litter of eight, all inna wiggly row. I was biggest, plus, I’m Very Intelligent! Took me one day to get potty trained, No Woof!”
“Impressive,” I exclaimed.
“Me an Renegade were Besties. Then, not that long ago, she hadda go over the Rainbow Bridge. It was Very Very Sad. Preddy soon, Mama an Papa found Choctaw in Oak-luh-HOME-muh, which is way far that way.” (He pointed.)
“I helped Mama an Papa an Doak feel better when they were Dismal Dog Biscuits cuzza losing Renegade,” Choctaw said softly.
Doak gave his sister a nuzzle. “You were wonderful! Then, Mama was lookin’ for an additional Boxer an found our lovable, goofy liddle bro Biscuit in Muh-ZOO-ree.”
Biscuit popped up from munching his chewy bone. “I wanna tell this part, OK? So, Mama flew out to get me in one of those big, funny bird thingys. It was when that duh-zeez was everywhere, so me an Mama hadda whole row for just us. I got to sit in an ack-shull seat next to Mama ’cept at the start an the end, an everybody thought I was the cutest pupper EVER!
“When we got to here an I met everybody, I was SO HAPPY. I knew I’d found my Forever Famly. Papa says we were like PB&J right off the bat. An guess what our favrite thing is? Ridin’ in our Jeeps. Safely tucked in, lookin’ out the back. Lotsa humans holler an wave to us. It’s way Fun. ’Cept sis still gets a liddle nervous.”
“How ’bout pooch pals,” I asked.
“There’s our next-door neighbors Calli an MayMay; an Bodie an Utah across the street,” Doak said.
“Oh, an guess what?” chimed in Biscuit. “Bodie an Utah get Bark Boxes every month, so now WE get ’em, too. Cool Kibbles, right?”
“Where do you all sleep?”
“With Mama and Papa, of course!” they all replied.
“At first they said ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!” Choctaw explained, “but, obviously, we disagreed. I mean, after all! So we cried outside the door. We’re always very careful to give them enough room – 17 inches just for them.”
Heading home, I was smiling, picturing three pooches and two humans all snuggled up, nice an cozy. An reminding myself to check out what a Bark Box is.
Till next time,