This week I innerviewed a pooch I was ’spose to meet earlier, but he decided to investigate his Dad’s new Christmas present, a pizza oven. It took weeks to remove the soot and cheese from his thick white coat. He’s an impressive poocheroo, a Samoyed (suh-MOY-uhd), an one of the Baa-LAY Vero Beach pooches, so his baa-LAY pooch pal, Neville, gray-shushly agreed to step in. (High Paw, Neville!)
First off, his full name, Lord Beerus, God of Destruction Eppink-Coner, wudda been intimidatin’ enuf but THEN …
A nice lady opened the door, an there was this man, practically hidden, with his arms wrapped around what looked like a gi-NORMUSS, white puffer coat. But then I noticed it had a tail. Anna nose. He set the huge fluff ball down: a big, hansome snowbank of a pooch, smiled an sauntered over For the Wag-an-Sniff!
“You must be Bonzo! Welcome! This is my Dad, Zack, an my Mommy, Katherine! I’m Bear!”
“Yes! Of, course! Bear! Great name! I thought …”
Bear laughed. “Ahhh! You heard my full name. My Dad an Mommy picked that name because I was an EXCEEDINGLY ram-BUNK-shus pupper: I chewed, well, pretty much everything, an apparently reminded them of a character from one of those giraffe-ick novels (I think they’re called), Lord Beerus, God of Destruction. Ackshully, my breeder named me Tundra Puppy 3, cuz my pooch Mommy’s name was Tundra an I was third out.
Thank Lassie, Mommy an Dad always call me Bear since, when I was a tiny pupper (well, tiny for me, 12 pounds), I looked like a polar bear cub. That big ol’ name’s jus for my Offish-ull PAY-pers, being a purebred an all. But I feel like a plain ol’ pooch.”
“Well, Bear, you gotta admit, you do kinda look like a king or somethin’,” I observed.
“Yeah. Us Samoyeds are from Siberia (not me, I’m from Iowa) but my ancestors were.
They were sled dogs. We’re cousins of the Siberian Huskies. We all have double fur coats, but us Sammies are more ruh-LAXED an low KEE.”
Bear may have been relaxed an low key, but he was also eager an animated. Before settling in to tell his tail, he zipped over to the fridge, gave a few low woofs and a couple of wags an looked hopeful toward his Mommy. She reached into the freezer, tossed something to Bear. He grabbed it, crunched happily, then trotted back.
“Would you care for a Water Cookie?” he asked puh-lightly. “They’re duh-lichus!”
“Oh, thank, you no. I’m ready to take notes,” I replied. “So, how’d you find your Furever Famly?”
“Mommy an Dad lived in an apartment in OH-muh-haw an they wanted an easy-goin’ pupper. They found me at the farm an knew I was Their Pooch right away. I was shy at first: I’d only been onna farm, so I was use to dirt an grass, but NOT cement, which I didn’t like. And then there were the Scary Stairs. I hadda be carried up an down for a while till I figured it out. I’m good at figurin’ stuff out. For example: the trash can. I’d get into it an root around. So Mommy an Dad put a lid on it. I figured out how to remove the lid. So they put it in the cabinet. I figured out how to open the cabinet door. Now they put it on top of the fridge.
“I love playin’ soccer with Dad! I’m the goalie. I get two leash walks a day. Everybody knows me!! I never had regular toys my whole life cuz I’d chew ’em to tiny bits in 2 seconds. When Mommy an Dad first got me, they bought a book called ‘Training Your Dog for Dummies.’ I ate it. They thought that probly wasn’t a good sign. But everything’s worked out fine!”
I managed to stifle a small laugh.
“Anyhow, Gramma Kim got me Bark Box Extreme Chewer. I get one in the mail every month, full of chew toys. No matter how much I chew, they just bounce back!”
“Do you like traveling?” I inquired.
“Love it! The road trip down here in 2020 was PAWSOME. We had the a/c blasting an the wind was blowin’ my ears! I used to go to work with Dad when he hadda work crew. That was fun. And I had my own landscape business for a while. It involved gathering sticks and depositing them in holes in the backyard. Lotsa sticks in lotsa holes. I felt it lent a certain feng shui. I’ve had to retire recently, however. Now I mostly dig on the beach.”
“So, do you have lotsa famly an frens?”
“Oh, woof, yes! Grampa Curtis; my pupper cousin Zeus an his human Tyler; Gramma Kim an Grampa Jeff; Gramma Jane; an my across-the-street pooch pal Rascal, he’s a liddle mixture; an my Ballet Besties, Frankie an his humans Adam an Camilo; an Neville an his humans, Alyssa an Kyle.
“Because my Mommy and Neville’s Mommy are baa-LAY dancers, an Camilo’s what’s called Ballet Master an Adam’s In Charge, me an Frankie an Neville are always practicin’ Just in Case a Performer of the Canine Persuasion is ever required. Me an Neville have playdates; Frankie’s farther away, but we try to practice whenever we can. Neville’s GREAT at leapin’ so I’m tryin’ to stand still so he can leap over me. Then, if we both twirl that’d be a paw-did-OO, I think. An, if Frankie was there an jumped over me also, then we all twirled, it’d be a paw-did-THREE, I’m pretty sure (which is RARE).
“You should see my Mommy dance. She’s a-MAZE-ing. It’s like she’s floating or flying.
When Dad’s away, it’s my Duty to Protect her. I have a fuh-ROW-shus bark when I want to! I have the Best Furever Famly!!”
Heading home, I pickshured totally charming, easy-going Bear, joyfully practicing baa-LAY with his pooch pals, snuggling with his Mommy an Dad an happily munching a Water Cookie. I only got a glimpse, but it looked quite a bit like an ice cube to me.
