I saw this doggie Doberman face in a pet supply store when I went shopping for Bijou and Loaner and yearned for Jeff, long lost with our past years in Rio de Janeiro. He was such a sweet boy who should never have been made to pay for Renato’s and my aspirations for a ribbon at a dog show.
I wrote about this event in “The Carioca Dobie Derby.” By the time I came around to writing this piece it was a long time afterward when we had returned home to California. It is much too late to apologize to him for the ordeal he was subjected to at the Rio Jockey Club, although I recall we fussed over him afterward and he appeared to recover fully and took up his duties guarding our front gate against intruders.
He showed his stuff when he did that, but not always in the right way when a colleague of Renato’s came to visit. Gallico gesticulated vigorously whenever he spoke and Jeff didn’t like that. He growled, once, twice, and then launched himself — at the man’s back pocket where his wallet reposed. And what did Renato do? He laughed so hard that he doubled over, while Gallico cried out “Disgraziato! Mascalzone!” as Jeff hung on.
What did I do? I am ashamed to admit that I, too, had a fit of hysterics.