This week I met a Very Cool Kibbles pooch, Bear Childs, who’s a breed I hadn’t heard about. Bear’s an inner-JET-ick little Schipperke (Skipper-key), a breed from BELL-jum. Schipperke is “Little Captain” in English, an, a long time ago, Schipperkes did Very Important Work for boat captains: they were Watchdogs an RATters (I know! Uck!). They guarded canal barges from the rats that’d sneakily sneak up the ropes from the dock to the barges, then sneak down to where grain was stored an EAT it UP.
Upon our arrival, a nice man greeted me an my assistant an escorted us in, whereupon Bear ran right up for the Wag-an-Sniff, barkin’ happily. Altho he’s small, his doganality is NOT! He’s very spruce, thick, fluffy, black coat, stick-uppy ears, bright eyes. I thought he looked a lot like a small German Shepherd.
“Hi! Hellooo! Come’on IN! I’m Bear Childs! This is my Mom, Lizzy, an this (the nice man) is my Dad, Captain Bobby.”
We got comf-tubble, an I opened my notebook. “I understand you have a very unusual tail.”
“I do! An it acksully began before I was even born!
“Way back in twenny nineteen, my future Dad hadda go down to a teeny eye-lun in the Bahamas where him an my future Momma hadda liddle house and guest coddage you could only get to by boat. A Very Bad Hurry-cane, Dorian, was headin’ right at it, an Capt. Bobby wanted to board it up an stuff. He did, but it didn’t do any good: The storm destroyed all the houses an hurt lotsa people, includin’ Capt. Bobby. He was IN-jured pretty bad. When he finally got back home, he also had what hoomans call PTSD. He still has scary dreams about the storm an hears the Roarin’ Wind.”
“That’s AWFUL!” I gasped.
“It totally IS,” Bear agreed. “But things are workin’ out. I’m 4 now, but back when I was more of a pup, I was livin’ with my Gramma (Mamma Lizzy ‘s Momma) an havin’ a priddy OK time, ’cept I was sorta free-spirited (well, probly ram-BUNK-shus). But inna frenly way. I didn’t know ANY-thing about what hoomans call DISS-uh-plin. When Gramma couldn’t keep me anymore, in October twenny-twenny-five, Mamma Lizzy an Capt. Bobby decided to adopt me.”
“How’d that go?”
“Well, at first, since I’d never had ackshul ROOLS, I might have been what humans call a Pain in the Asparagus. For a while, they called me Diablo, which I’m preddy sure isn’t a positive cognomen. I wasn’t fuh-ro-shus, I just had SO MUCH ENERGY an didn’t know a THING about ROOLS.
“So Mamma an Daddy decided (because my breed is Very Intelligent an Very Faithful) they’d find a trainer to teach me Everything A Well-Buhaved Dog Should Know, an see if I could qualify to be an eee-MOTION-ull Support Dog, an help Capt. Bobby feel Much Better. An guess what?” Bear pawsed for Dramatic Effect.
“What?”
“I DID IT! I’m officially Capt. Bobby’s Emotional Support Dog an I’m allowed to live here with my family, which dogs can’t unless they have passed the course.”
“Woof! Bear! That’s huge! Congrats!”
“Thanks!” he said, with justifiable pride. “An NOW, I’m learnin’ MORE so I can qualify as an o-FISH-ull Service Dog, an be able to go ANYwhere DAD goes. It’s not easy, but I’m duh-termined.”
“I’m impressed, Bear,” I said sincerely.
“So, guess what? Pretty soon my trainer’s comin’ over, so you can watch my training session, if you wanna.”
“Totally!” I replied.
Just then, there was a knock, Mamma Lizzy zipped to the door, an returned with another lady.
“This is my teacher, Miss Tara,” Bear said. “I hadda innerview with her to see if I could be a stoo-dent, an I PASSED. OK, we’re gonna start!”
Bear laser-focused on Miss Tara. She did a kinda swoopy flat-hand signal an Bear sat staring at her, waitin’ for a command. As Bear responded to hand signals an voice commands, Miss Tara told him he was a Good Dog. In buh-tween commands, she buh-stowed frenly pats, scritches and ear fluffs. An sometimes, but not offen, she’d produce a liddle treat from her pocket.
Post lesson, Bear explained a little more.
“Miss Tara says I shouldn’t look at her like she was a Treat Dispenser. There are different kinds of what she calls mo-tuh-VAY-shun, which means whatever gets me to do what she wants me to. It can be food, of course, but also PRAISE, which we all love, right?”
“Totally!”
“Or it can be love, comfort, shelter, a toy, water, even her just askin’. Anything that’s of VALUE to the trainee. An finally, we should be able to do what is requested just because we know we should, cuz it’s The Right Thing To Do an we know some kind of reward is down the road.”
“Are you ever just not In The Mood for school an wanna run away?”
“Not so far. Sometimes lessons can be On Leash. But Miss Tara usually does, like with me, what’s called Free Shaping, no leash or restraint, just voice an hand signals, cuz we hafta learn to stay with our Person without a leash, like inna store, or the beach or an ELLY-vador. For our safety, our person hasta know we’re not gonna go flyin’ off. When we all went to Tractor Supply, I did GREAT! The SMELLS were PAWsome!”
“Do you respond to your Momma an Dad same as to Miss Tara?” I wondered.
“YES! THEY hafta take lessons, too. An that transition, from Miss Tara to Momma an Capt. Bobby, is called ‘Pass the Puppy.’”
“WAY Cool Kibbles,” I exclaimed.
Post-lesson, Bear shared his excitement about his very first trip to the Bahamas, where he’ll be by the time you read this. As we chatted, he sat happily in Capt. Bobby’s lap while Capt. Bobby lovingly brushed Bear’s thick coat an carefully clipped Bear’s toenails.
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ of Bear’s amazing tail, an how us dogs’ relationships with our hoomans are Very Much about Trust. An Love. An Patience. An Bear is happily givin’ an gettin’ “All of the Above,” as a proud Emotional Support Dog an soon-to-be Official Service Dog.
Till next time,
Don’t Be Shy
We are always looking for pets with interesting stories. To set up an interview, email
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