Tasman Rumbough is a Very Hansome, Very Paw-light young poocheroo: a purebred (but NOT a snobnose) Golden Ree-TREE-ver with the fluffiest, most a-MAZE-zing tail I ever saw! (If there was a prize for Best Tail, he’d probly win it, Paws Down!)
I met Tasman briefly at the Sea Oaks Pawrade of Champions a coupla weeks back but we didn’t have time to chat cuz there was lotsa fun stuff goin’ on.
Tasman anna nice lady anna nice man met me an my assistant at the door.
“Hi, Mr. Bonzo, come IN!” Tasman said, bouncin’ up for the Wag-an-Sniff, an waggin’ that very fluffy tail. “This is my Mom, Laura, an my Dad, Doug. Wanna go PLAY?”
“I’d love too, Tasman, but I hafta take notes,” I replied, with a smile.
“Oh, right! I sorta forgot! Anyway, come’on! Let’s go SIT!” We got all settled, an my assistant brought forth a few yummy snacks from The Satchel, which Tasman Eagerly an Rapidly accepted an devoured, creatin’ a cool breeze with his pawsome tail.
“I’m ready to hear your story,” I said, pencil poised. “First off, how’d you find your Furever Famly?”
“Well, see, Mom an Dad knew they wanted a Golden Ree-TREE-ver, cuz they had ’em buh-for, an, of course, we’re their FAV-rite breed. (Errr, no offense!)” he added quickly.
“None taken,” I assured him. “My famly feels the same way about Springer Spaniels.”
“So, anyway,” he continued, “their pree-vee-us Golden had gone to Dog Heaven, an they had waited a year, till the Time Was Right. Then they went to their usual breeder, Jazzin Kennels, who’s near a big place called at-LAN-tuh, an put in their order. They weren’t plannin’ on their pupper bein’ one of those Snobnose Show Dogs, they just wanted a happy, lovin’ pupper, Thank Lassie. Meanwhile, a year ago last Nov. 3, the breeder lady’s Pooch Mama hadda litter. A Very Big Litter: 7 grrrls and seven boys, includin’ ME. She told Mom an Dad I was the SWEETEST one. My fancy, papers name is Jazzin’s Gilded Tasman, which Nobody EVER calls me, Thank Lassie!
Anyway, they decided on Tasman cuz it sounds sorta like Tasmanian Devil, because sometimes I can be the teeniest bit, umm, well, ram-bunk-shus, I guess you could say. As apparently Tasmanian Devils also are.”
“What?” I said. I’d never heard of Tasmanian Devils.
Tasman explained. “I found out from a wise neighborhood dog named Tess, that they are wild, very ram-bunk-shus, very loud, liddle animals who live in a faraway land on an island called Tasmania. I’m gettin’ much better now that I’m older.
“So, anyway, Mom an Dad drove all the way from here to at-LAN-tuh an picked me up. I didn’t get off to that great a start cuz, well, I hadn’t ever been inna car buh-fore an I was Very Sick an Tossed my Kibbles! A LOT! It was a Major Mess an I was worried they’d turn around an take me right back for an exchange. But they DIDN’T! They loved me ANYway. An I’m Much Better now!”
“So, tell me what your life’s like these days,” I suggested.
“It’s great! I’ve travelled a lot with Mom an Dad in our Camper Van. I’ve been to lotsa places. Like a big place called The Southwest. I’ve also been to a whole bunch of Nash-un-null Parks, which are really big places with lotsa trees and streams an mountains. An we have what’s called a Campsite. We park our van an make a liddle fire. An there are mountains called, umm, adda-RON-dacks. Anna big lake called PLA-sid. Anna kinda weird place, umm, Loss ALLA-mos, I think it is. (It was kinda creepy.)
“An, guess what, Mr. Bonzo?”
“What?”
“Well, this spring, which is pretty soon, right? We’re goin’ onna Big, Excitin’ trip in our Camper Van to, lemme think, to a coupla states I haven’t been to: Washing-ton, and the top part of, umm, Calla-FORN-yuh, an a lotta big mountains called the cuh-NADEE-un ROCK-ees. Which are inna whole ’nother country!”
Suddenly, Tasman got up, trotted over to the door, an began sniffin’ around, like he was lookin’ for something. After a coupla minutes, he returned. I was puzzled.
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Bonzo. Didja see those dark things? Dad calls ’em SHA-dows. They’re a-MAZE-zing. They keep movin’ all over the place, but I can never ackshully CATCH one. They’re EVERYwhere. An Mom-an-Dad’s phones make ’em, too. Those are called ree-FLEX-shuns, Dad says. Someday I’m gonna get one.”
“Woof! Fascinating!” I commented. “I think we have some of those in our house, too. I’m gonna check. Anyway, whaddya do for fun?”
“Um, well, I’m learnin’ about Leash Walks. I’m pretty good at it, I think. An I meet lotsa pooch nay-bers that way. BUT, so far, when I’m Off Leash, Mom an Dad say I’m a – what’s the word? – oh, MANIAC. I chase birds an squirrels. An a coupla times I’ve run all the way to Disney an Grand Harbor.”
Yikes,” I exclaimed, then, “How about favrite foodstuffs?”
“Well, ackshully, I like to eat, well chew, pretty much anything. Which I am findin’ out from Mom an Dad, isn’t always the proper thing to do. Like, Kleenex, I love eatin’ Kleenex! Also, napkins, an tissue from that little roller thingy in the bathroom. Also tennis sox. Then there’s what’s called ear pods. Last Christmas I ate one an I hadda go to the doctor an have SIR-jury. That was Not Fun.
Dad says thank goodness for dog insurance.”
“Yikes, Tasman! Um, got any Pooch Pals?”
“Oh, sure. There are So Many pawsome pooches here! There’s Brodie, he’s my neighbor. He’s way older than me, 16, I think. He’s a cool pooch! Then there’s Brandy, an English Cream, an Drew, a Black Lab therapy pooch, an Peter, an George, my Bestie in Con-NETTY-cut. He’s WAY bigger than me. An also my human sisters Anna in San Fran Sisco, an Kate, in Con-NETTY-cut, an my liddle neff-you, Cooper: We totally love each other. He’s two-anna-haff, young like me.”
Heading home, I was smiling, thinkin’ about hansome, charmin’, occasionally ram-bunk-shus Tasman, an his joyful enthusiasm. And about shadows.
