Kinzmet

 

An early Christmas gift to myself!!!!  I spied the last Lil’Kinz St. Bernard at the local gift shop today and swooped in for the score!  Got it!  It’s mine, all mine! Many years ago when I was an impressionable teen, I wanted a horse.  A Brown Arabian Horse would have suited me just fine!  What’s that got to do with a St. Bernard you might ask?  Bear with.  My best friend Mary Kay had a horse and so did my best friend Angie.  Well….maybe it wasn’t the horse I wanted persay but all the feelings  and daydreams that I conjured up in my mind about horse ownership.  Carefree, lazy trots along the cowpath in the meadow. Secrets whispered into velvety, twitching ears.  My stead would know my every thought.  I’d soak in those chocolatey brown eyes. And don’t forget about the Tack Room! Oh yes, as a bonus you get a tack room and stable for your horse! I actually think I wanted the tack room more than the horse itself.  I wanted to have a space I could call my own, a place I could decorate with “horse stuff”,  a quiet respite from all the “teenage chaos”. But, alas, I didn’t get the horse of my dreams, I got a St. Bernard instead!!!!  You see, early on before I can really remember, my father operated a dog boarding kennel.  Funny thing about that too, you then become a home for all wayard things great and small.  With a family to raise, dad gave up his doggy-dream-world and did the corporate scene instead but that didn’t stop the neighbors from dropping off stray cats and dogs and raccoons and snakes at our doorstep. One cold winter’s day just before Christmas we got a phone call from a neighbor up the street.  “Do you own a St. Bernard?  Did it get away?”  “Well, no.  It’s not ours but we’ll be right up to take a look at it.”  One look at that HUGE fluffy bear-like face and we were hooked.  No, he wasn’t a horse, but he WAS the size of a SMALL PONY and that was good enough for me! I named my pony/dog Bearneard.  He had walked a very, very, very long way to come into my life.  His feet were rubbed raw.  He allowed my family to patch him up and gave us slobbery kisses in gratitude.  His bandaged feet didn’t stop him from lumbering over to the fireplace where he slept and slept and slept.  He became my best friend and I have many, many stories I could tell here.  But that’s a book for another time.  

 

Here’s my boy at his favorite place.  Isn’t that the cutest thing ever? 

Bearneard’s desparate need for exploring the great outdoors made our family realize he had a greater, higher calling.  He needed more room to roam and run.  A family aquaintance was willing to adopt Bearneard and give him a wonderful home on a sheep farm!  Bearneard was a natural at sheepherding! And that’s how he lived out the remainder of his doggy years.  So in tribute to my best dog friend ever, I found my Webinz St. Bernard and named him Slobbers in memory of my Bearneard!

 

Here’s Slobbers getting his first bath!  What a ham.