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Poppy's Gotcha story...

I had planned for a second pup when Sophy would be 18 months old, and had actually started conversations with several breeders, but when she was about 9 months it became very clear that she needed a dog to play with now, and that none of the dogs we knew were the right size or age. Browsing the internet as you do, marvelling at all the naff photos of badly bred and badly groomed pups, there was one little face that kept jumping out at me, so pretty, so beautifully groomed, so perfectly poodle... I kept telling myself that I couldn't buy a pup from an internet listing site, not even a fairly reputable one; that the pup would be nearly 12 weeks old and would certainly have been reserved; that it would all be a scam - and then sneaking back for another look. In the end I decided to phone just in case, and found myself having long conversations with a well-known show breeder with a long history in the UK poodle world and an excellent reputation.

I arranged to visit, staying overnight with my sister on the way and leaving Sophy with her. It was a pig of a journey, cross country and North to South, and the kennels were right out in the countryside in a maze of little lanes - and I had no SatNav. I spent several hours talking dogs, meeting Poppy and her parents, and generally getting to know her, until we were all agreed that she was the right dog for me and I the right human for her. At which point I pulled out my cheque book, and discovered they didn't take cheques, but had somehow forgotten to tell me of it. Way before instant transfers were the norm, and I really did not fancy doing the journey twice, so I set off to pull as much cash as I could from ATMs.

The first refused my card - that particular bank was renowned for their machines running out of money. I tried further afield, circling around and trying one small village after another until I found another, and by taking out the maximum cash allowed on all my cards just got enough. Then I had to retrace my journey in the gathering dusk - did I mention no SatNav?!

By the time I got back to the breeder's I was more than slightly frazzled, but we completed all the paperwork and they carefully snuggled Poppy into the crate I had put into the back of my car, then I set off back, deciding to go the longer way round by the motorway as being easier. Except that there were roadworks and accidents and lanes blocked and it took forever. After an hour or two I began to wonder if there really was a puppy in the car, or if I had been slipped a soft toy ringer, she was so quiet. Fortunately a little wriggle and murmur reassured me before I pulled over to check.

We got back to my sister's some time after midnight, and the rest is history. Sophy was thrilled with her new sister and Poppy was delighted to have another dog to follow. They grew up together very happily and it is hard to imagine life without her. And she still gazes at me with the same sweet expression that caught me all those years ago.
What a sweet story! They make quite a pair.

Here's a funny one.
In Miami we have an overabundance of lizards. Maybe it averages one lizard per sq ft. Something like that. Misha enjoys chasing them if they run right under his nose though he has no interest in hurting them. Occasionally I have grabbed the larger ones while taking him on a walk if they look slow and complacent. I figured he would like to check one out while it wasn't racing around. The first time I did this, I held it down at his level, told him to be gentle, and let him sniff it. He was very delicate, sniffing all over the lizard, but when he got to the head it opened its mouth when he touched his nose to it. He took one whiff of that lizard's mouth and started retching and gagging. He then wanted nothing to do with it!

I have repeated this 3-4 more times. Each time is the same, though for the last couple he is careful not to take too big of a whiff of their breath. He still makes a disgusted face if he sniffs near their open mouth.

I have tried smelling their mouths myself. I can smell no odor! I don't know what it is that grosses him out so much. This is a dog that usually delights in gross smelling things.

So there you have it. According to Misha, the worst smell in the world is lizard breath.
 

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Oh, fjm, what a journey it took you to finally be able to take Poppy home. The arrival of smart phones has actually made some things easier, I think.

Raindrops, I laughed out loud at Misha’s disgust of lizard breath. Something tells me he would not be a fan of that new dog food using cricket protein. I applaud your attempt to smell lizard breath yourself- a serious scientific inquiry if there ever was one.

Violet and Navy recently had the opportunity to meet my brother in law for the first time when a family emergency necessitated him coming to our house. According to my SIL he experiences Aspergers Syndrome, and so far I’ve never been able to make much of a connection with him the few times we met. Well, he sat down on the couch and Navy and Violet immediately attached themselves to him and gave him rapt looks like teenage girls with a crush. What?! Who are these dogs? I’ve decided they are operating on a whole other level of wisdom, and found my own sense of connection to him greatly increased. So, once again, dogs make the world a better place.
 

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Violet and Navy recently had the opportunity to meet my brother in law for the first time when a family emergency necessitated him coming to our house. According to my SIL he experiences Aspergers Syndrome, and so far I’ve never been able to make much of a connection with him the few times we met. Well, he sat down on the couch and Navy and Violet immediately attached themselves to him and gave him rapt looks like teenage girls with a crush. What?! Who are these dogs? I’ve decided they are operating on a whole other level of wisdom, and found my own sense of connection to him greatly increased. So, once again, dogs make the world a better place.
That gave me happy chills, @Newport :)

My dad can come across as quite reserved, and dogs gravitate to him, as well. The family dogs will gather round when he sits on the couch, lounge on every available inch of him, and look so completely content.

He is Finnish and very blunt/straightforward. No saying one thing (physically or verbally) and feeling another. Makes me think of this:

 

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Ah, the Finnish man. A unique creature sometimes found in saunas or under sleeping dogs. Once, many years ago now, I spent a teenage summer in Finland helping to build a children’s camp. Despite several offers of saunas by locals, I was shy and demurred. I don’t remember meeting any poodles, but I did hoe a carrot patch for an immensely pregnant farmer who wore a bralette and short-shorts. I was fascinated by my first sighting of a bare pregnant belly (This was before the Demi Moore photograph or the Aliens movie). My friends and I must have been equally curious creatures to her and her family because they stood over us while we sat at their tiny table eating the lunch they gave us, laughing and exclaiming in Finnish while taking our picture.

And there you go, Robin, a Finnish story with no poodles. I hope tangents are allowed.
 

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The first full day we had Dixie, we took her out on the lake with us and our 2 kids. We live on a lake and much of our summer is spent enjoying it on the lake. It was also September, so the window of taking boat rides was getting short.

We putted around, as we usually do, just relaxing and enjoying the lake life. Eventually we dropped anchor next to one of the islands that commonly has seas gulls and pelicans lined up on a long ridge of rocks that go out into the water. We live in Minnesota, but have these birds on the lake. If I close my eyes and listen to their chatter, it makes me feel like I'm at the ocean.

Dixie was unshaken by the boat ride. She has been easy going from the start. After some time of just floating and soaking up the sun, I decided to sit on the back platform of the boat where the ladder goes into the water for climbing in and out. I just wanted to dip my feet in and cool off. My 11 year old son joined me, and eventually, Dixie did too. She sat with us about 20 minutes, seemingly enjoying the view and feeling of being right above the open water.

By the time we were ready to pull up anchor, she had moved over by my son. I'll admit this was my mistake and had grown a little too comfortable with his being able to watch her every move. In the commotion off pulling anchor, I watched her stand up and her back legs slipped off the back of the boat. I saw the whole thing but was out of arms reach to stop it from happening. She slipped under the surface for one very long second as a flung myself over to her, with my 9 year old daughter screaming a blood curdling "GRAB HER!!". I reached under the water and pulled her out to safety. We wrapped her up in a towel and headed home. She surprisingly seemed completely unshaken, almost like it happened so quickly she didn't realize anything scary had happened.

And I'm just thankful that my overzealousness to get her on the water didn't cause her any fear in our future boat trips. It was definitely not my proudest Spoo parent moment. And luckily it was a lesson that didn't have to be learned the hard way.
 

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Okay, I think I've got one.

At our old place, we had a very set walking circle that we took the dogs on every day. It was also below freezing for about 5 months out of the year. The roads there were made of a mix of dirt and gravel; it would have been fairly pointless to have pavement in the residential area since it would have gotten seriously torn up.

One of my siblings had a friend who would knock on our door from time to time. Sometimes my siblings would answer, if I couldn't get to the door fast enough. One day, they answered the door to their friend while I was wrangling Misty, and Fluffy darted out.

I did what you're told never to do when your dog runs off--I ran after him. Barefoot. On icy dirt-gravel mix. Calling his name. Telling him I'd give him treats. He'd dash forwards, looking back over his shoulder at me occasionally, clearly having the time of his life. I'd call him and run faster. He'd dart forwards. Then he took a turn. I followed. We ran further. He took another turn, making sure I was following. It finally dawned on me that he was taking himself for a walk, and I began to wonder how many times we were going to go around the loop! I finally caught him when he was almost done with the loop and decided he would pee on a nearby pole. He got to be locked up in the bathroom with me while I warmed my feet back up in some warm water, too amused to be terribly upset.

And that's how I learned that Poodles are creatures of habit.
 

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LakeSpoo, that reminds me of a Sophy story. We went for a walk at Arnside, where there is a famous tidal bore, and happened to coincide with both the bore and a sighting of a rare bird, so it was very crowded. Unable to park in our usual place I went round to another spot in the tidal marshes, and we set off for a walk. After a few hundred yards we came to an inlet which seemed to be filled with pale sand, but it struck me as odd given the tide was just on the turn - just as I realised it was not sand but foam, and called out to Sophy to Wait, she jumped and I knew it was too late. I stood, mouth open and panic stricken, as my tiny papillon vanished below the fast running water six feet below me. Then up bobbed her head, she struck out for the steep bank, scrambled up, and while I was desperately thinking of warm towels and hot milk with a dash of brandy, shook herself and asked where were we going next? I was in bits, she was completely unfazed!
 

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Heres mine.
Was out on our regular morning route. Heading to the regular coffee shop so regular I domt need to order they just make my coffee and I hand over the cash.
Before there, is a nail shop. Toffee stopped by the open door and a lady getting her nails done saw her and stopped her nail job, came out to play with Toffee. The owner also came out. Toffee took a few friendly strokes, stopped, looked at them and promptly did a pee and then a poo on the welcome mat. Ooops
 

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I'm a tall girl and I like to wear long (floor length maxi) voluminous skirts. The first time Beau saw me wear one was when we'd had him for a couple of days. I was standing in front of the bathroom vanity getting ready, and Beau was running around playing being a 4 month old puppy. The next thing I know Beau is gone, I looked around and decided he left the room. A minute later my Mom comes into the bathroom looks down at my feet and starts laughing, so of course I said "what's funny?" She told me to lift my skirt, I did and there was Beau sitting still as a statue between my feet looking up at me like "Hi Mom look at this great hideout I found." Apparently my Mom saw his little wagging tail sticking out under the hem of my skirt. Silly Puppy :LOL:
 

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I have a new poodle story:

I injured my sacroiliac joint in 2015 and it plagued me horribly for years.

472752


Finally I found a chiropractor who could help, and within a couple of appointments, I’d regained significant mobility. Most days I don’t even think about it anymore. It’s been years since it flared up.

Well, this morning I was saying hi to Peggy and sat down on the kitchen floor with her. This is a normal routine for us: Lots of whispers and cuddles and hugs. But today she dipped out of my embrace and went behind me, giving my lower back a long sniff and then a few tentative licks. It was—to put it mildly—weird.

We continued our hellos and then I stood to make coffee: OUCHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. My SI joint went into severe spasm.

She absolutely knew there was something wrong. No doubt in my mind.

Poodles are neat. :)
 

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Wow that's really weird and cool! Sorry you are back in pain though. I have a feeling Peggy is probably a lot more perceptive than Misha.
 

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That's really cool, Robin, a good early warning system. All Mia does is sniff my hair after I get a haircut.
Lol. That is really cute.


Wow that's really weird and cool! Sorry you are back in pain though. I have a feeling Peggy is probably a lot more perceptive than Misha.
She’s so sensitive. It’s a double-edged sword!
 

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Here's mine:

Last week we had our carpets cleaned. Not two days after they'd been cleaned but a mysterious set of muddy spots appeared on my stairs near the back door. I was obviously upset about it and I angrily chastised each of my kids for not wiping dog paws before letting them in especially after having the carpets cleaned. Of course they each denied it, and my husband and I speculated about whether it even was from the dogs. It didn't exactly look like paw prints, but it would have been a strange pattern for shoes to make too. We debated about what could have caused it and vented frustration, and then he left for work taking the kids with him to school. I sat down next to the stairs to begin my morning routine (I had decided to wait until the mud dried to clean it up), and after everyone left and the house quieted, Texas, my older standard popped up and went directly over to the mud spots and licked them until they were almost entirely gone. He has never done that before. It was as if he was either trying to clean up his mess or trying to make us happy by cleaning up someone else's mess. It was incredibly sweet.
 
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