When I first learned this week’s innerview was with a Rottweiler, I was just the teeniest bit intimidated, sight unseen, cuz, well, you know, after all, Rottweilers aren’t known as meek, petite, lap dogs. But half a second after we met I ree-lized you can’t, as humans say, judge a book by its cover.
Soon as the front door opened, Koko Henry came bounding up happily, wagging and nudging and doin’ some frenly woofin’. Bein’ 105 pounds of muscle, me an my assistant hadda brace ourselves as we made our way to the sofa. The Wag-an-Sniff was more of a Wag-Wobble (on my part)-an-Sniff.
“Hi! Mr. Bonzo!” (Bump.) “Oops, Sorry. I’m just so glad to meet you,” she said in a very frenly, enthusiastic way. “I heard about your coll-um from some pooch pals, but I never ackshully SAW it. I’m Koko Henry, of course. My Dad – this is him – his name’s Mike. An this is my big brother, Buster Brown.”
“Good morning, Miss Koko! A total pleasure. Lovely coat you have!”
It was! Thick, shiny, an wavy black with dark gold places. She also had brown eyes anna lovely smile. But, Buster Brown? Who the woof was that? I looked around. Then, glancing down, I spotted this itsy poocheroo, about the size of Koko’s head, fluffy hair goin’ in all directions, pointy ears, sitting straight an tall (relatively speakin’) with head tilted to one side, sizin’ me up.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Bonzo,” Koko replied, then, seeing that I had spied Buster Brown, added, “Yep, Buster Brown’s the boss of the house, an the best big brother a girl could have. I’m gonna be 5 pretty soon. He’s 13. He’s a Chi-weenie: 8 whole pounds. He’s a rescue like me.”
“Mr. Brown, honored to meet you,” I said with sincerity. Then, to Koko, “I didn’t ree-lize you’re a rescue. I’m eager to hear your story. So, shall we begin?” I opened my notebook, an Koko promptly nose-bumped it an daintily drooled, just a liddle, on the blank page.
My assistant produced a duhlicious yoghurt-an-apple snack from The Satchel, which Koko gently accepted, then began her tail.
“Dad already liked Rotties (that’s what humans call us), cuz his famly, who live nearby, have one called Ranger, who they got from Gulfstream Guardian Angels Rottweiler Rescue. Well, when Dad’s buh-loved Golden Re-TREE-ver, Harley, hadda go to Dog Heaven in 2018, even though he was only 2 (cuz he hadda duh-ZEES), Dad was feelin’ Totally Dismal Dog Biscuits.
“So, his famly decided to cheer him up with the Best Christmas Present EVER: ME! It was a Total suh-prize. They obtained me from the same Rottie rescue as Ranger after I was found as a stray wondering the streets of My-AMMEE, lost an scared to bits. Well, I totally lucked out; Dad’s famly is grrreat, and me an Ranger hit it off right way. So, at Christmas, everybody piled in the car and drove over to Dad’s, including me, an adorable 1-year-old pupper with a Christmas wreath around my neck.
“When Dad opened the door everybody hollered ‘Merry Christmas’ a buncha times. At first Dad thought I was Ranger. It took him about 30 second to figure it out. Then he hugged me and just kept smilin’. An maybe shed a coupla tears, like humans do. He was totally speechless, an I just snuggled into his lap. I still do. I don’t care what anybody says. I’m a lap dog at heart an a Total Daddy’s Grrrl.
“I do have a pink cammo coat for chilly weather, but I’m not what you’d call a Fluffy Girly Grrrl. Honestly, Mr. Bonzo, I love ridin’ in the car with Dad an I think, if I were a human, I’d be – a truck driver.”
After a brief pause while I pondered how to respond to that and decided to just change the subject, I asked, “How’d you an Buster Brown get along at first?”
“Great,” Koko replied, “soon as I figured out he’s in charge.”
“Woof, what a terrific story, Miss Koko. So, what’s life like these days?”
“Way fun, Mr. Bonzo! Me an Buster Brown play all the time. I sometimes send him tumbling but he bounces right back up. Me an Ranger stay at each other’s houses when our humans are elsewhere. I have neighborhood pooch pals, too: Vader, he’s a German Shepherd, an Abby, a black Lab. Also, I play with two human liddle grrrls from across the street. I LOVE liddle kids. Even though I’m, well, BIG (some people who don’t know me think fuh-ROW-shus), I’m real gentle with Liddle Kids.
“I could play Tug-an-Grrr with Dad all day, or Fetch (both parts).
“An here’s something kinda odd. The lady at the rescue thought she’d try something for fun, Rotties bein’ German an all, so she gave me some commands in German an, guess what, I understood ’em! I knew how to ‘Zitz!’ an Plotz!’ an ‘Hee-r!’ an ‘Foos!’ And I didn’t even have to think about it! isn’t that so Cool Kibbles?”
“Woof! The coolest! I even have to think about it when it’s in English!”
“Probly my favrite thing is,” she continued, “after my bath, getting dried off with a towel! That’s the best! I love goin’ out in the rain so I can come back in an get dried off.”
“So, you probly like swimming then?” A no-brainer, I figured. But, nope.
“Ackshully NO! Not even a liddle. I swim like a rock. I don’t even get NEAR our pool.”
“Any favrite foodstuffs?” I inquired.
“Oooo, yes: chiggen jerky! An PIE-napple chunks! Duh-LISH!”
“Where do you sleep?”
“With Dad, of course, on our king bed. Buster Brown has his own ch-weenie-sized bed so I don’t accidently smush him. Before bed, me an Dad snuggle an watch TV. Mostly ‘Animal Planet’ or ‘Secrets of the Zoo.’”
Heading home, I was thinkin’ about large, charming Miss Koko and little in-charge Buster Brown and their big happy famly mixture of humans an rescue pooches. It warmed my heart. I was also thinking that one or two nice cold PIE-napple chunks would be lovely in my evening dish of yoghurt.