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| Talking Story with Tex |
Tex’s Tale:
Autobiography from a 100-lb Yellow Lab
Woof, y’all! I’m Tex, a 100-pound bundle of yellow Labrador joy, and let me tell ya, my life’s been a wild, tail-waggin’ ride!
So, there I was, in a puddle of puppies under the scorching Texas sun. Eyes barely open, I’m already shoving my brothers and sisters outta the way like a furry bulldozer.
Me and Mom time? Non-negotiable. I was the alpha pup, the big cheese, the top dog in a litter of squirming furballs.
Everyone fussed over me, probably ‘cause I was struttin’ my stuff like a canine kingpin. One day, I’m mindin’ my own business, chompin’ on some kibble, when this cowboy dude with a Texas drawl thicker than molasses scoops me and my sister up. “You’re the one!” he says, like I’m the golden ticket in a Willie Wonka flick.
Turns out, this guy’s just the delivery dude
—some surfer bro on the California coast is payin’ for me ‘cause he wants an alpha dog for “home security” and “companionship.”
Pfft, like I’m some rent-a-cop with a waggin’ tail. I never caught the cowboy’s name, but I’m pretty sure it was Ralph. Sounded like a Ralph, anyway. Next thing I know, I’m crammed in an RV, bouncin’ toward the West. How’d I know it was West? ‘Cause that’s where the sun sets, duh!
I spent a few days peein’ all over that RV—learned real quick that’s a no-go. After what felt like a million miles, we roll into Mission Viejo, pullin’ up outside a dive bar called Mugs Away.
Classy joint. I’m just chillin’ when a car screeches up, and Ralph starts yammerin’ with some long-haired dude. They’re arguin’ over me and my sister—Ralph wanted the girl, this guy wanted me. Easy swap, and suddenly I’m tucked under the arm of this surfer freak named Arlo, lookin’ like he just rolled outta a Beach Boys music video.
We strut into Mugs Away, and let me tell ya, I was the star of the show. Everyone’s cooin’ over me, callin’ me “cute” and “adorable.” Arlo’s slingin’ beers, holdin’ me like I’m his VIP pass to coolness.
This dude’s my new owner, and he’s the chillest, most carefree beach bum you’ll ever meet. Picture a 50-year-old surfer with hair down to his shoulders, livin’ in flip-flops, and always smellin’ faintly of sunscreen and tacos.
That’s Arlo.
After a few brews, Arlo tosses me into his Speedster, and we’re off to his parents’ place on the outskirts of LA. I’m thinkin’, “Great, more humans to worship me.”
Arlo’s mom and dad are older than the hills, no dogs of their own anymore, so I’m like their furry grandkid. Mom’s a tea-drinkin’ cookie machine, slippin’ me treats every chance she gets. Pop’s cool too, always sneakin’ me bits of his sandwich. Arlo’s cookin’ me chicken, feedin’ me the good stuff ‘cause he wants me to be a big, strong beast.
In six months I grew to be 100 pounds of pure Lab love!
I took my job as family protector seriously. I’d patrol the house, keepin’ an eye on things, barkin’ at squirrels like they’re public enemy number one. Mom and Pop loved it, laughin’ at my puppy antics. But soon, it was time to hit the road again. Arlo’s all about that beach life, so we park the RV by the Santa Ana River Jetty in Newport Beach.
This place is my jam! I’m struttin’ my stuff, actin’ all cute, and lemme tell ya, I’m a total chick magnet for Arlo.
Girls in bikinis can’t resist my floppy ears and soulful eyes. Arlo’s livin’ the dream, chattin’ up the ladies while I’m stealin’ the show.
We spent a year or two like this, livin’ in the RV, hangin’ by the beach. The river was my playground—county property, so no “no dogs allowed” nonsense like on the beach.
It was Labrador central down there, with all these surf cats bringin’ their dogs. One dude had this ridiculous rope with TEN tennis balls tied to it each ball 12 inces from the other. He’d chuck it into the water, and me and the other Labs would go nuts, divin’ in like we’re in the Canine Olympics.
I was the king, though—Tex the Titan! I’d drag that rope back to shore, haulin’ ten other Labs with me like I’m pullin’ a monster truck. The crowd went wild, cheerin’ my name. Okay, maybe they were just laughin’, but it felt like cheers.
Evenings were chill. Arlo and I would park the RV, cook some dinner, and sit by the beachwalk. I’d be on my retractable leash, waggin’ my tail at every bikini-clad passerby. Arlo’d let me stretch out to say hi, and I’d work my charm—tail wags, puppy eyes, the whole deal.
I was basically Arlo’s wingman, and he was livin’ the carefree life, grinnin’ like a kid who just found free tacos.
Weekends, we’d head back to Mom and Pop’s. By now, I’m gettin’ a bit middle-aged—less puppy, more distinguished gent. Arlo’s folks had a full-time caregiver, and I’m like, “Sweet, more humans to spoil me!” I’d stay with them sometimes, chillin’ with Mom, who’d slip me cookies like I’m her personal cookie vacuum.
I took my guard dog duties to heart, especially with Mom’s Alzheimer’s. When she’d have an episode, the caregiver would plop me on her bed, and I’d lay my big ol’ head on her chest. Boom—calm city.
Mom’d smile, and I’m pretty sure I was her hero. Dad, too—I’d check on him, and if he needed his fried egg sandwich or a sneaky cigarette, I’d fetch the caregiver like a furry butler.
As I got older, I started diggin’ the house life more than the RV. Don’t get me wrong, Arlo’s 40-foot rig was sweet, but it ain’t no grassy lawn for sunnin’ myself. Mom’s leftovers and the caregiver’s gourmet dog food? Yes, please! I’d still hit the beach with Arlo on weekends, splashin’ in the river, chasin’ tennis balls, and flirtin’ with the bikini crowd.
But my heart was with Mom and Pop, makin’ sure they were safe.
Time rolled on, and things got heavy. Mom and Pop needed more help, so Arlo and I moved in with them.
We were a team, lookin’ after the old folks. Eventually, Mom and Pop crossed, and I knew my time was comin’. When I finally trotted off to that rainbow bridge where I will wait for Arlo with his other dogs Homer, Keesh and Princess (my new friends) , I left behind a legacy of tail wags, cookie crumbs, chick magnetism
-- and the best dog dude who’s probably still tellin’ stories about his 100-pound wingman, Tex.
Groove is in the Heart - Tex