Look For the Bare Necessities: The Story of Baloo
A gentle giant who lived with kindness, loyalty, and just a little too much drool
The Dog, Who Lived Like Baloo the Bear
My humans say this was the motto of their eldest son’s Newfie. His name? Well, this giant’s full name was “The Dark Knight of the Woods”, but you know… That dog really did live by the lyrics of Baloo the bear’s song from the famous cartoon. So, in the family, he was called Baloo.
I’ve heard so many stories about him in our family—if only they talked about me that way! Always glowing, always full of love. Baloo was a massive, handsome black giant, brilliant and endlessly kind. Well… with one little catch. He drooled. A lot. To say he was slobbery is like saying the sea is a bit damp. Shoelaces practically lived in his mouth. No wonder my human lady wasn’t too thrilled when Baloo’s gigantic head hovered over the dinner table, eyeing the plates.
A Gentle Giant
Apart from that, Baloo was the embodiment of “the bare necessities.” Our family never knew a more laid-back Newfie. At 85 kilos, he could manage a little sprint after the neighbour’s dogs, but his favourite posture was flat on the floor. As long as he was fed and walked, of course.
He spent his last years in Cyprus. Once, my human decided to take him “for a nice walk” down to the sea and back. Five, maybe six kilometres. Sounds pleasant, right? Not to Baloo. He was so unimpressed that for the next two days, he hid from my human, refusing to even look at him—making it crystal clear he wasn’t signing up for another one of those “walks.”
Newfies- Loyal to the Core, Protector by Nature
What the family admired was his loyalty. Baloo was astonishingly obedient. In London, his human walked him through the streets without a leash. And Baloo even crossed roads on his own, glued to his owner’s leg. Like shadow and body, never apart.
Newfies are the family’s soft spot. The very first one appeared nearly 40 years ago, back in Moscow. His name was Ferry. No, not like Fairy- the dishwashing liquid—it didn’t exist yet. Ferry was just a short version of his full, grand name: Geoffrey Glash de Olivier. Sounds noble, right? But imagine trying to call that across a dog park! So Ferry it became.
Ferry embodied the calm strength Newfies are known for. Gentle giants, but when pushed too far… well. There was this German shepherd named Nord, who was aggressive and constantly pestering him. Ferry endured it until Nord crossed the line and actually bit him. In an instant, Nord was on his back, pinned down, with Ferry’s teeth hovering at his throat. From then on, Nord kept his distance.
We Newfies also have a built-in radar for our humans’ emotions. If they’re anxious, if they need protection—we know. Once, two drunks tried to push their way past my human lady and stop her from shutting the door. Then Ferry appeared, filling the doorway with his massive, toothy head. He didn’t even growl—just gently nudged her aside and stood there. That was enough. The men instantly sobered up and vanished with a nervous laugh: “Oh, you’ve got a dog!”
A Friend and Guardian
But here’s the thing: for all their size, Newfies might be the gentlest dogs in the world. Once, in London, a brood of ducklings wandered onto the sixth-floor terrace of my human son’s apartment. Their mother was lost somewhere on the rooftops. While the human’s son searched for her, the ducklings toddled dangerously close to the edge.
There’s a family video of Baloo saving them. Patient, tender, determined—he gathered the ducklings and nudged them into a safe corner. He knew paws were out of the question; too clumsy. So he worked with his nose—a nose bigger than any duckling, but soft and precise. Not one was harmed. Eventually, the mother was found, the babies returned—and Baloo, proud as anything, had saved the day.
Even Toby, his smaller friend, relied on Baloo’s protection. Whenever Toby messed up and sensed punishment coming, he planted himself between Baloo’s legs. No crouching required—he fit perfectly there. And honestly, who could stay mad after seeing that? The humans burst out laughing, and Baloo, like a stoic guardian, stood immovable, as if fully aware he had just rescued his little buddy.
Still Watching Over Us
Baloo left us in Cyprus—an accident.
Later, when relatives, including the mother and daughter, were visiting, something extraordinary happened.
One evening, the mother said, “Did you notice you have a dog in your fireplace?” The family went to look—and froze. From the dark wall of the fireplace, Baloo’s face stared back at them.
There was no doubt: Baloo, in his ghostly form, had taken our house under his paws. The humans and their son are sure of it.
Legacy of Love
And me? I owe my whole life here to Baloo. His passing broke the son’s heart. To heal it, the family decided to bring another dog into their lives. Not a Newfie exactly, but close—his kin. That’s how Toby, the only dog in the family at that time, got a two-month-old little brother, a Landseer named Vanya. Me.
Baloo’s ashes rest on the Isle of Wight, in our garden, beneath a tall pine tree. Toby lies beside him. And in our home, Baloo’s portrait hangs in the kitchen—the heart of the house, where the family gathers most often.
Baloo- The Dark Knight of the Woods
