In Monticello, FL, down a quiet road lined with pine trees and pastures, Tealbrook Kennels is the life’s work of 86-year-old Barbara Genthner — a devoted breeder, trainer, and Labrador enthusiast. What began decades ago as a modest kennel has become a legacy shaped by thoughtful breeding, expert training, and a deep respect for the bond between dogs and people. Barbara has guided Tealbrook through change and loss, quietly building a national reputation while honoring the memory of her late husband, Paul. Today, families, hunters, and field trial fans look to her for guidance and gorgeous pups.
This is the story of Tealbrook Kennels and the remarkable woman who built it … one dog at a time.
Growing up on Duval Street behind the Governor’s Mansion in Tallahassee, Florida, Barbara’s love of animals was practically stitched into her childhood. “As far back as I can remember, we had dogs and cats,” she recalls. “The first one I can remember was a Collie.” They also had a Pekingese, and Barbara took it upon herself to teach him tricks.
“That was the earliest I remember having my hand at teaching or training a dog,” she says. That early connection blossomed through high school and into her college years at Florida State University, which had transitioned to co-ed in 1947, not long before she arrived in 1956.
After losing her first husband, Barbara returned to her roots with animals. “My dad got me a German Shepherd … I went to an obedience class, which helped teach me the basics,” she explains. It wasn’t long before Gypsy, a black female Labrador, became her prized pupil. “She didn’t like the obedience classes; she liked retrieving,” Barbara chuckles.
From those humble beginnings, Robinhood Kennels was born in 1965. “My neighbor did the boarding stuff and I did the retriever training,” she says. Together, they laid the foundation for what would later evolve into a major success story.
Barbara’s life shifted again in 1973 at a field trial. “I was actually competing against Paul,” she remembers, “who at the time had Cotton and Bandit, who were brothers … I was running Junior against some of his clients’ dogs.”
There was a mutual respect between the competitors, one that quickly deepened. They married in 1974, and their honeymoon was spent traveling to the National Field Trial championships in St. Louis with a dog named Casey.
Paul, a seasoned trainer from Maine, brought with him a legacy of his own — Tealbrook Kennels, established in 1950. “There was a little pond on his property that had a brook that ran to it. He had Green-winged Teal ducks that would come in, so it became Tealbrook,” shares Barbara.
And Barbara’s love for Paul, the dogs, and the operation is undeniable. “I can’t express how wonderful it is to look back to when Paul and I had our first litter of puppies together, and revisit all our records of puppies and families that have been with us from 1974 to today,” she says. “There are people who’ve seen their children and grandchildren carry on with our Tealbrook dogs.”
If Tealbrook had a patron saint, it would be Cotton. “He was the first yellow (Labrador) out of his breeding,” Barbara says. “No one running field trials would even look in a yellow Labrador’s direction. Paul proved them all wrong.” Cotton defied expectations in a field dominated by black Labradors, becoming an AKC Field Champion, Canadian Field Champion, and Amateur Field Champion.
“Cotton was so sought after and gained so much attention that we sold him to one of Paul’s clients,” she explains. “Because you had to be an amateur for the amateur field title.” And it didn’t stop there. Cotton’s legacy endured in his son, Cash , who carried the torch for Tealbrook’s line. In fact, the current stud at Tealbrook is his great great great grandson!
In 1979, the couple moved their operations from Tallahassee to Monticello, FL. “I wouldn’t say it was too hard. But one thing that did wear us out was that the very first thing on the new property was driving 45 minutes each way to build the kennel, and make it ready for the dogs,” Barbara remembers. “The dogs were our livelihood; the house came last.”
They built the lodge in 1985, and as clients stopped sending dogs south for training, Barbara and Paul shifted their focus to training the owners. “We’re so proud to be able to train owners and watch that evolution and true bond,” she says. “The happiness that radiates from both owner and dog during training or that first retrieve — that makes me smile.”
As Barbara reminisces, she highlights some of her favorite belongings. The kitchen table is what she treasures most, and it’s so much more than furniture — it’s a sacred archive. “Paul and I would sit at our table, looking out the big window at the deer,” she shares. “Paul carved decoys; I painted them. We both loved to paint. We loved to talk. Under our kitchen table, there are years of the sweetest little puppy teeth marks.”
More than 800 puppies are accounted for across six handwritten books she and Paul logged together at that table. And some of those pups have traveled as far as Alaska, Nova Scotia, and Ecuador. One unforgettable memory? “One of my owners trained his Labrador Oscar for search and rescue … he aided in the Ground Zero, Twin Tower rescues of 9-11.”
But not all of the memories are easy. When Paul passed away, Barbara was uncertain of Tealbrook’s future. “When he died in 2007, I didn’t think anyone would come back to me, being a woman,” she admits. “A lot of clients stayed. A lot of new clients came.” She focused on breeding, though training was harder alone.
Despite the sorrow, Barbara found joy knowing she could still bring happiness through her dogs.
If you ask Barbara what defines a Tealbrook Labrador, she doesn’t hesitate: “Gentle, loyal, and loving,” she says. Beyond their field abilities or accolades, it’s the disposition that matters most. “They become great family dogs and loving companions,” she offers.
Her biggest hope is that the legacy will continue. “The thing that makes me so sad is the lack of females to carry on the line,” she says. But thanks to clients and friends, she’s working on preserving the lineage through selective breeding and even freezing genetics.
There’s a reverent simplicity in Barbara’s words when she sums it all up: “If I could say one thing to any dog owner, it’s that the best thing to do is think like a dog — to understand what they understand or don’t. Don’t punish them for stuff they haven’t been trained for … They aren’t people, as much as we want them to be.”
And to the families, clients, and friends who’ve walked this journey with her?
“Thank you for being so loyal to me and loving my dogs like I do,” she says. “That is the most important thing to me.”
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