Bonz meets Shylo, a friendly, fit-to-be-queen Frenchie


If any poocheroo was born to be Queen, Shylo Fulk is Totally The One. She’s an 8-year-old French Bulldog with a pawsome coat called BRIN-del (I looked it up). It’s like a tiger coat: brown with darker brown an black stripes. SUPER Crispy Biscuits, speshully when worn by a tidy liddle lady like Shylo.

She’s got that great French Bulldog poss-chur; a ballerina front paws turnout; an those famous, straight-up bat ears. (Remember FBD Biggie Smalls a while back? Shylo’s the grrrl version. Small but mighty.)

She anna lady answered the door. Eschewing the traditional Wag-n-Sniff, Shylo executed a quick Size-Up, followed by a snappy wag.

“DO come in! Welcome to my home. Make yourselves comf-tubble. I, of course, am Shylo Fulk. You may call me Your Majesty, or (as you’re a fellow dog) Miss Shylo, if you prefur.

These are my human assistants: my Mom, Gwen, an my Dad, Jeff. May we offer you a snack? A bowl of water, perhaps?”

“A great pleasure, um, Miss Shylo. Thank you! I’m fine for now, eager to hear your tail.” I opened my notebook.

“Indeed,” she said. “If you’re ready, I shall begin. I am an Only Dog, which is as it should be. But that was not always the case. Mom an Dad also live in Midland, Texas. It’s pretty far that way. (She pointed.) It’s important due to havin’ lots of gooey energy stuff called OIL, which apparently is very important to humans (an it’s Dad’s bizz-ness).

“Anyway, they hadda pooch already, a Schnoodle called Cinco, an Mom wanted a lap dog, which Cinco was not. So Dad went On The Line an found me in Mih -ZOO-ree. I was just 3 months old. He picked me doo to my name (Shylo), which was the same name as an energy company (Shilo), an they had a pree-vi-us pooch with the same name only spelled Shiloh. (Humans!)”

“I hear ya!”

“I was placed inna nice crate an rode up in the air in one of those big whatevers to the Midland airport where Mom an Dad picked me up. My crate was placed in a grassy field by the airport an, when Mom opened it, I shot out an flew off, straight to a nearby street, which I didn’t even REE-lize, I just wanted to Get Outta That Crate!

“Well, Mom Freaked Out (I buhleeve humans call it), envisioning her bran new pupper all smushed.”

“Oh, for Lassie’s Sake,” I exclaimed.

“Fortunately, I already knew my name, which Mom immediately hollered, so I stopped (pre-smush) an came back. We hugged an snuggled, an I rode all the way to my Furever Home in Mom’s lap. Oh, an P.S.: Now I fly back-an-forth buh-tween Texas an here under Mom’s seat. I’m NOT a crate grrrl.”

“Woof!” I repeated. “So, did you meet Cinco right away? How’d that go?”

“Yes I did. An it went well. Even though Cinco was older, she was not an Alpha pooch like me: Born to be Queen. An that was Cool Kibbles with her. We had the best time for years until last year, when she left for Dog Heaven. It was a very, very sad time. But ee-VEN-shully, I ree-lized I was meant to reign alone. An I accepted my destiny. Queen.

“Mom an Dad, however, apparently didn’t get the memo, an decided I needed come-PAN-yuns. So (you’ll never buh-leeve this) they got me not one but two FBD puppy pals, sisters Addie an Maddie.

“Yes, they were sweet an adorable an all that, but I was NOT PLEASED. I was SO Not Pleased that Mom an Dad ree-lized it hadn’t been a great idea (to say the least), an quickly found a wonderful, loving home for Addie an Maddie, an I took my rightful place as Queen of All I Survey.”

“What was it like in your new home, at first (other than the Puppy Pal Episode)?”

“Oh, lovely. I was a chewer, of course. Aren’t we all as puppers? My favrite was, still is, Hoofs. Perfect. Long-lasting. An, you don’t get fussed at. A definite plus.

“There was a rather amusing episode in Midland when I was younger. We had this big fountain with stairs up to it an, much to Mom’s diss-MAY, when they were away, I’d climb all the way up the stairs to the fountain, then jump over onto the roof an watch the traffic go by. Everybody’d wave an holler to me. Great fun! But Mom didn’t think so. So, the next time they were gonna be gone, Mom lugged this gi-normuss bougainvillea to the top of the stairs to block me.”

“Oh, woof,” I exclaimed, envisioning the possible outcomes.

“WELL,” she continued, “when they returned, I was on the roof, happily watching cars, an the (former) bougainvillea was lying limply all over the place, chewed to tiny pieces. I considered it a major victory, as well as a great example of my Problem Solving Skills.

Mom, not so much. Now, when I see they’re planning to Go Somewhere Without Me, I give them my Guilt Stare. It’s Very Powerful, an they usually end up sayin’ ‘You Wanna Go?’ just as I’d planned.”

“Sly! Favrite foodstuffs?”

“Ah, yes. My absolute favrite, paws down, is grilled chiggen breast. We often lunch at the Green Marlin where I always order the grilled chiggen breast. It’s duh-lightful. Mom tried veg-tubbles a few times but I just eat around them. I’m a CAR-ni-vore, for Lassie’s sake.

“Once I was with Aunt Stephanie an Uncle Kevin in this amazing place called Key West.

There’s water all around, an lotsa pooches, an chiggens an music, an very happy humans walkin’ in the street. An Uncle Kevin gave me some smoked SAMM-un. Majorly Duh-lishus! I also got this collar down there.” She turned to show off her blue-an-green collar with pink fla-mingos: a lovely liddle Queen of All She Surveys, through an through.

Heading home, I was wondering what my chances would be of gettin’ Gramma an Grampa to take ME to get a grilled chiggen breast.

Till next time,

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