My niece was a sideline cheerleader throughout the search for our first Bernese Mountain dog. Well, at 8 weeks old, they all were jumpy. In the confines of an empty living room papered with pee pads, nine jumpy puppies popped along the floor, tumbling and spilling over one another and gnawing on random chair legs or baseboards.
I was told by the breeder — who identified the pups by colored collars: “Orange Girl” was a potential show dog and future breeder; we had no interest in breeding dogs. “Purple Girl” was the largest female. Yikes! “White Girl” was the most confident; I was not looking for an alpha-female. “Green Girl” was a bit shy; at times in the thick of it and alternatively, waddling along the walls to avoid the mayhem. So Green Girl came home with us. We named her Penny.
At three years of age, Penny is exactly the dog that we hoped for. She loves to play and run. Her BFF is my niece’s “Cavijon” (King Cavalier and Bijon mix). They believe they are the same size. Penny loves the outdoors, especially if there’s snow!
And, Penny is still timid. Cautious around new people, she doesn’t like crowds. Wood floors, narrow openings (think: hallways, walkways partially blocked by a chair) and things that move overhead – like awnings in the wind, low-hanging tree branches, and umbrellas are all SCARY. She’s the politest eater I’ve ever seen – She waits interminably for you to let go of a dog treat; she waits and watches after her food bowl is placed on the floor.
Penny is super gentle. She carries her stuffed animals around in her mouth, like a mama, moving them from room to room (though she is not beyond giving them a wicked shake or two first). She is perpetually smiling. She snores when she sleeps and she purrs (like a motor engine) when she’s happy. She doesn’t bark much. A high-pitched “one-bark” means “I need something. You need to get it for me.” Usually it’s a toy that’s under a scary table or a door that needs to be opened wider. But if a bear is in the vicinity, she throws her head back and bellows a big, deep repetitive bark. I like when she does this; it’s how I know to look around on our walks in the forest.
Penny doesn’t swim or fetch, but she does do “zoomies” (manic running loops) and “ninja spins” (crazy, repeated circles, first one direction, then the reverse) that end with a “plop” down on her belly, tongue spilling out of her mouth.
She can sit, lay down, stand, come, and wait on command – most of the time. Berners have perfected the art of “turkey-leggin’” which is a form of casual sitting and their “resting happy face” is a wee-bit of pink tongue that escapes from her lower jaw.
Penny’s best day begins with a lunge onto our bed before dawn, followed by a quick snooze in the blankets, paws up of course. We hike in the forest every morning. She supervises my writing and my cooking. She sneaks away to a cool spot on the stair landing for an afternoon nap and pushes her nose into my elbow at 5pm to ask for dinner. She coaxes us to the floor for some after-dinner antics and then insists on laying outside in the cold for her pre-bedtime nap. She loves the mountain air and reluctantly comes inside at lights-out.
We speak of our family’s first dog, Bandit, as The Last Best Dog. Penny may not have the credentials to unseat Bandit. But she’s definitely on the list.
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 