I’ve just learned another new-to-me Pooch Fact: There are Labrador Re-TREE-vers, an there are Blocky Head English Labrador Re-TREE-vers. They’re all Labs, with wonderful Labby dis-puh-ZISH-shuns: The same. But diff-rent.
When he’s not in Cuh-NETTY-cut or Mane, Snowbirddog Simba Danforth, a Blocky Headed Black English Lab, lives with his Mom and Dad an other pooch/human families inna Cool Kibbles place called Island House.
Upon entering, me an my assistant spotted Simba an his Dad at the end of a long hallway. Simba came barrelin’ joyfully to greet us, his long leash (an his Dad) bouncin’ along buh-hind. “Hey, Mr. Bonzo! SO stoked you’re here! Welcome!”
He skidded to a halt for the Wag-an-Sniff. “Totally my pleasure, Simba! Please, call me Bonz!”
He was BIG an im-PRESSIVE. Shorter an bulkier than other Labs of my acquaintance, super well built, with a thick double coat anna block-shaped head. In his presence, I felt almost svelte. Almost.
As we walked, he innerduced his Dad, Mike, an his Mom, Lisa.
His Dad had secreted liddle tidbits which, from time to time, he held above Simba’s head.
Simba’d sit motionless until given the go-ahead, whereupon he gently accepted the snack.
No snatchin’. No slurpin’. No slobberin’. Then his Dad said ‘Stay.’ Simba sat like a statue while his Dad walked way far down the sidewalk with a treat. He kept sayin’ ‘Stay’ till finally he said ‘Break,’ an Simba flew down the sidewalk for his treat. I was impressed.
Trotting back, Simba explained, “We also employ StayStayStayBreak on the steep steps down to the beach so I don’t accidently topple Mom or Dad over when I’m inna hurry to start playing in the sand. At the top they say ‘StayStayStay’ till they get safely down. Then they say ‘Break’ and I can zoom down an play without toppling them over. Clever, right?”
“Indeed! You’re obviously in very good shape. How do you do it?”
“Me an Dad go onna daily 3-mile beach walk. I maintain a healthy 84 pounds,” he said with justifiable pride. “Everybody on the beach knows me by name. They say ‘Hi, Simba!
Hi, Simba’s Mom an Dad!’
“If you’d like to share, I’d love to hear more about your champion lineage,” I said.
“Sure. I don’t talk about it much, cuz I don’t wanna sound like a Snobnose, but I’m proud of my ancestors. My pooch parents are AKC Grand Champions from Brighton Labradors in Colo-RAH-do. Registered puppers’ pooch parents aren’t called Dad an Mom, they’re called Sire an Dam.”
“Fancy!” I exclaimed.
“No Woof! My Dad’s official name is Grand Champion Tampa Bay Kodachrome, an my Mom’s, if I remember it right, is Grand Champion Brighton Branchwater Victoria’s One and Only Vivian.”
“Shut the Doghouse Door!” I blurted.
“An get this, MY papers name is King Simba of Island House. But I never let it go to my Boxy Head.” We both laughed.
“I’d love to hear all about your intrestin’ life, Your Highness.” I couldn’t help myself.
“Lemme see, I’m 3 now: So, when that COVID thing started an the humans hadda stay home, Mom an Dad decided it’d be a great time to get a pupper. So they got ME. I came with a 3-ring binder of my LINNY-uge that was bigger than me. Here we all were, human famlees an their pooches, QWAR-un-teened in Island House. (My pooch pal Cooper says people usta stay here a looong time ago when they were thinkin’ about buyin’ PRAH-ber-ty in John’s Island. Later it got all spruced up like it is now. Cool Kibbles, doncha think?)”
“Totally! Sorta historic.”
“Anyway, I became the 8-weeks-old Island House Mascot. I was cheerin’ everybuddy up durin’ the COVID thing, when this terrible event happened: I was playin’ in a place where usually nobody ever drove, when I got hit by a golf cart.”
“Oh, Woof, Simba!”
“I almost bought the doghouse. Everybody was cryin’. It was Touch-an-Go for 3 days.
Nobody even slept, Mom says. Finally, Thank Lassie, the Treasure Coast Animal Emergency Hoss-pittle got me put all back together!
“I’m a Total Daddy’s Boy, but I also have lotsa frens! Some of my pooch pals are Oliver, he’s the Grand Gentleman of Island House; GiGi, she’s from Las Vegas (an Woof! does she have stories!). Then there’s cousin Bella, she’s Gramma Rae’s pooch; an Mini from South HAMP-ton.
“My human faves are my nieces Adriana, 5; Isabelle, 4; an Amelia, 3. We have the Best Time when they visit. Me an Amelia love tumblin’ around an givin’ each other kisses.
We’re totally each other’s BFFs! An look!” (Simba nosed a small black ceramic Labrador that his Dad produced from his pocket.) “Adriana MADE this! It’s ME!”
“Totally Crispy Biscuits!” I said, admiringly. “I expect, being a snowbirddog, you travel a lot.”
“Absolutely. I am a suh-FISTA-cated Free-quent Flyer. Always get the window seat. Dad isn’t thrilled cuz it’s his fave, too. I’m peeved that Elite isn’t flying here anymore, tho. My pooch pals agree. We’re use to our own seats. Soggy Dog Biscuits.
“I do enjoy riding in my Mustang convertible, snuggly secured, ears an whiffles blowing in the wind!”
Suddenly, down the outside hallway, a door opened. I turned to see this Big White Fur Mountain excitedly tuggin’ onna leash, toes slippin’ on the sidewalk. Instantly, Simba started excitedly bouncing on his leash.
“It’s my fren COOPER! He’s a Re-TREE-ver, too. He’s even bigger than …”
Before Simba could finish his sentence, the lady holdin’ the Fur Mountain’s leash unhooked it, the mountain flew down the sidewalk smack into Simba, and the two began tumblin’ an tusslin’ inna black-an-white flurry.
I prudently stepped back. After the tumble, anna brief introduction, Cooper went on his way.
“Don’t forget movie night,” Simba called, then turned to me. “We an our humans have regular, outdoor, inter-species movie nights. Way fun. You should come.”
Simba had more stories than I have space. I can’t imagine a better job than gettin’ to make a new pet pal every week and hear a new tail. Then end the day with a lovely dish of yoghurt.
