dogmodelsofamazon-blog

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Zebedee’s Famous Pose

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His Signature Scent

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The Organic Shampoo which maintains his fur’s health

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Zebedee

For this, the inaugural issue of DMOA, we had only one dog in mind. Zebedee the golden retriever has long been the golden boy of the dog modelling world. Every product he lays his paw on sells out. His over the shoulder pose has become a staple move which younger dogs always include in their portfolios. Finding a date which suited Zebedee for the interview proved tricky however. We agreed to meet at what was once a bar know only to a select few in Central London. I arrived early, settled into a red velvet banquette with a glass of water, and surveyed the crowd. I was surprised to see some of the newer stars, insta-dogs and dog tubers. It appeared that this particular venue was not as underground as it once was. Given that Zebedee has no public social media accounts it appeared very much to not be his scene. He prefers to cultivate an air of mystery, harking back to the original dog superstars like Lassie and Beethoven. Twenty minutes after we had been due to meet I received a call from Zebedee’s publicist apologising profusely and explaining that unfortunately Zebedee would be unable to attend our meeting. Zebedee was living up to his elusive reputation.

Three days later I found myself in a Rolls Royce Phantom with blacked out windows being chauffeured to Zebedee’s country home. It is deep in the Oxfordshire countryside. The estate has its own orchard, vegetable garden and bee hives as Zebedee prefers to eat as organic as he can. It is in the orchard that my interview with Zebedee takes place. Originally I had been delivered by the driver to the servants entrance at the back of the house. There a extremely officious butler informs me that I must return to the front of the house. The walk around takes me five minutes and I am astounded by the size of Zebedee’s abode. When I finally reach the front entrance, and an imposing mahogany door with an elaborate brass door knocker in the shape of Zebedee’s own head, Zebedee himself is waiting outside. He looks smaller in real life, but his coat glistens more sleekly than any picture can convey and as he shakes I can smell the faint aroma of lavender and tobacco. I have an overwhelming urge to touch his fur, but I restrain myself. He informs me that as it is such an unusually clement autumn day he thought it would be nice for me to have a walk through his grounds as we conduct the interview. He then strides out purposefully and I trail behind.

I begin by asking about his very early modelling career. Zebedee was famously one of the puppies used to advertise a particular brand of toilet paper. Few of this puppies managed to parlay this position into a lucrative career, and notoriously many of them have experienced grave misfortune in doghood. Zebedee is diplomatic about this experience. “It gave me my start,” he demurs. I press him, “If you were to have puppies would you allow them to start working so young?” “I’m a bit too old for that,” he laughs, “Look at these braeburn trees, isn’t the foliage gorgeous at this time of year.” It appears that is all he is willing to say on that subject.

I then attempt to ask him about the scandal that rocked his career last year. He was filmed at a private party at one of his friends licking a suspicious substance. He lost several major campaigns. When I ask he stops dead, and spends a long amount of time sniffing the stump of a tree. He then rolls in a bit of fox poo. It seems that is all he will say about this particular chapter of his life.

I move on to less contentious ground. “Tell me about your beauty routine,” I inquire. He talks at length about the organic Wildwash Manuka Lavender and Aloe Vera shampoo he use twice weekly. He is also a fan of a wooden brush he picked up from a small boutique in France. Occasionally, if the occasion calls for it, he will spray a tiny bit of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille on the brush to lightly scent his fur. We walk further through his grounds, stopping to admire the clarity of a small stream, and picking blackberries from one of his numerous bushes. We reach the hives. One of his employees is extracting the honey from one. It runs unctuously from the combs, remarkably the exact shade of golden of Zebedee’s fur. “What I appreciate most about the bees,” he says, looking me straight in the eyes, “is that although there are worker bees and drones, they are nothing without a queen.” He smiles pointedly. “Who are you going to interview next do you think, one of those new insta-dogs?” Before I have a chance to answer Zebedee’s publicist appears with the driver of the car I arrived in. It seems that my time with Zebedee is up. I go to shake Zebedee’s paw, but he is already walking back into the grounds.

I am escorted back to the car by the driver. It is only when I reach the house that I realise I didn’t even get to go in. I try to peak through a window and just catch a glimpse of a room filled with taxidermy animals. One looks suspiciously shaped and sized like an adolescent Labrador. I am ushered into the car by the driver. It seems that Zebedee, Queen Bee of the fashion world, will remain as much of an enigma as ever.