I’m not sure what’s happening with this darn weather. I specifically put in a request for no more snow, but here’s March coming in like a lion although I'm the one doing the growling...grrrr. We hookers, we like wool,! We want lambs bringing in March!
So Thursday I missed work due to my injured knee and then Friday I was storm stayed. By the way, thank-you all for your kind words, they were very uplifting. The song “Momma Said There’d Be Days Like This” played in my head all day long. My leg is much better today after two days of rest. In all the snow yesterday I wasn't about to risk aggravating it by shoveling my way to the road.
So yesterday, I sat nursing a very nice cup of java wondering what I should write about. Usually I'm inspired by something that happens at work and have my database of pictures and patterns to draw from. Being home, I 'm forced to jabber on about other stuff, maybe continue the theme from the day before yesterday about the willow infatuation. I actually had another epiphany I'd like to share.
I was chatting with hubby about recessed memories and triggers that evoke emotional responses and he shared an interesting story. Apparently his daughter, just shy of two years, got quite a surprise when daddy left for an ocean yacht delivery, clean shaven and smooth to return with a black growth that scared the training pants off her. She wouldn't go to him until he shaved it off. To this day she doesn’t like men with beards and it’s a make or break deal when accepting a date. And when she married, Hubby liked to tease her about marrying a guy that not only had a bare face but he was bald as well, as far away from facial hair as she could get. I can relate to that experience. A red headed boy, who apparently had a crush on me but didn’t clue in that maybe spitting in my hair wasn’t the best way to get my attention, put me off dating ginger haired men later in life.
Then I jokenly said to hubby. I wonder what happened in my past to attract me to poodles? Not one or two, but oodles of poodles. I currently have four but secretly desire more. I have visions of at least a half dozen playing in the yard and walking by my side. At risk of becoming the crazy dog lady I might have to restrain myself, but if an opportunity presented itself I don’t know if I would have the strength to walk away. A shelter poodle would be snatched up in a heart beat, and I’m sort of hankering for one of the party poodles of mixed colours. For those of you that don’t know, before the party poodle came into vogue, pups with mixed colouring would be disposed of because there wasn't a market for them. But now they fetch higher prices than solid coloured ones. Paris Hilton or some other larger than life legend of their own mind must have expressed interest and made them a hot commodity. My hubby likes a quote by Jon Stewart, “Man marvels at the beauty of nature, and then tries to fix it”.
Of all the breeds out there, I often wondered why I landed on the poodle. The only drawback is the need to be groomed once a month. I’m not willing, or have the time to do it myself and quite frankly my groomer earns every penny and should get more. Hopefully he never retires as he's top notch, with over 30 years experience doing poodle clips. I say it’s money well spent; the money saved from not indulging in cigarettes, bingo, booze and any other habits I don’t have. I would rather get rid of my TV cable than my groomer!
So as I was chatting with hubby a picture flashed in my brain, the aforementioned epiphany, and I see very clearly the poodle from my formative years. Once again, I’m a wee thing, marveling over this magical poodle that turned pink or blue depending on the weather. It held my fascination for a long time, checking it every morning while forcing down hot oatmeal. I think it turned pink for fine days and blue for stormy ones but it’s so far back my memory may be serving something I didn’t order. But I remember distinctly that the base colour was white. Hmmmmmmmm; and there's the rub!
Now I love all my babies, each one has a very different personality, each one is sweet and gentle, and loves the bones off me but….and there’s always a but…the white ones have always owned a larger percentage of my heart. Louis, the one who passed away, shared a close bond with me like an accident with crazy glue, and although I never thought I could love another dog half as much, Henri has wormed his way into my heart even more. In the past, I wondered if the colour had anything to do with it, but dismissed the notion...surely it came down to personality, but maybe now I'm not so sure. Maybe I'm drawn to them by my subconscious mind.
I certainly love the red, apricot and now the black; they are like a graduated swatch, from light to
dark. I love their colours but…and there’s that but again, the white ones give me the urge to squeeze the poop out of them, in a loving way of course, I just can't hug them enough, and bury my nose in the top of their heads and sniff their wonderful smell. So what came first, the love or the poodle? Maybe the envelope was always there waiting for white paper to be stuffed into it.
If not for Janet Delo, a fellow rug hooker, I may have missed the opportunity to discover poodles...although I believe it was destined to happen at some point. Brian, her husband, ordered an Ott-Lite from my shop for his wife for Christmas and I was going to the city for supplies so I offered to meet up with him in front of Staples to hand deliver it. I did my shopping and was waiting for him to arrive when the phone rang that he was running late. I didn't want to hang around Staples, or sit in the car with the motor running so I spied Pets Unlimited and said I would be in there, come find me.
Well, I’m looking at all the puppies when I see this little face looking at me from behind the glass. My heart had been severely broken three years earlier when my Shepherd passed away and I swore I would never have another dog. I’m loyal like that…when I love something that much, I feel guilty loving again. But there was this sweet little face saying "pick me, pick me" and I felt a flutter in my chest. The friend with me said, "go on, get her!" I phoned my hubby to get his input and all he said was, “Is she in the car already?” I said no, but I wondered what I would do with a puppy? My Max, the Shepherd, had come to me at 18 months, trained and ready to roll. I was in virgin territory and didn't know one end of a puppy from another!
So Brian shows up and the two of them pummel me with advice, telling me to go for it. Brian thought my hesitation might be monetary and even offered to lend me money to purchase her. That wasn't my problem, I knew the moment I saw her she would be mine....I was just working out a plan in my head how my life would be with a little one in tow. I asked to hold her and was told that wouldn't be possible. Apparently fanatics come into the store and asked to hold puppies with the Parvo virus on their hands, purposely hoping to kill them. That was a bit of a shocker and quite frankly I really didn't understand. Apparently, I would have to buy her to hold her so fair enough, where do I pay? So, the next thing I know we're heading home with a puppy.
One look at her and all I could think was “what a honey” so Honey she was. and we got along like a house on fire right from the start. There were a few pees on the floor until I got used to her needs but she proved to be smart and easily trained. The trouble started when I told people I'd bought a puppy from the pet store. I swear I was ignorant of puppy mills but apparently that's no excuse. At a pet supply shop when asked where I got my new puppy and I innocently said a store, the shit hit the fan. I was told, not so nicely and in a loud voice, that my little girl would be dead in three months so I’d better get her vet checked. In my defense I replied, "I thought I was saving a puppy and giving it a good home" but apparently not...instead I was just torturing the mother to produce another brood to be sold for profit, the likes of me having no care about the mother's caged and abused existence. At that very moment I was worse than the dirt on my shoes. Interesting....while I was being slammed I was handing over several hundred dollars to pay for a bed, bowl, toys and a collar for my new bundle. A strange way to treat a paying customer. I would have walked out but at the time there wasn't any other place close by to purchase items for animals and my baby needed supplies! So I took the verbal assault, paid her for abusing me and left with my wares.
I was upset to say the least. When I expressed concerns to my vet, he told me that he has seen a lot of fine animals come from pet stores. That there had been a nasty ring of mills in the past but a lot of them had been cleaned up or closed. He thought the chances of me getting one of the sickly puppies was slim as she seemed to check out beautifully and in nine years my little darling girl has never been to the vet for any problems, other than the normal spaying. After I did a bit of research on the internet about puppy mills, I changed the error of my ways and sought out breeders for my next poodles, although it was interesting that every one of them came with some health issues.....doing the right thing doesn’t always mean trouble free.
Poodles are a bit high maintenance and probably the reason they aren’t as popular as other breeds. The first thing you have to do is find a good groomer. At first I didn’t have them shaped like traditional poodles. I denied their heritage as a hunting/retriever dog, that went into the water after game. Poodles are fabulous swimmers. and their fancy clips were purposed to keep specific organs warm. But I wasn't overly keen on that pouffy look so I opted for the Teddy bear cut, just a basic all over clip. Gradually I gravitated toward the trimmed faces, paws and tails. Well actually it was more of an well engineered slip on my groomer’s part. Every now and then I would go to pick them up and he’d say ooops…I forgot you didn’t want that…I’d look at the dog, there was nothing I could do so I'd shrug and take them home. Then it would grow on me so I’d say okay, permission to do it again. Then a few more grooms would pass and there would be another slip. So now they are faced shaved, feet trimmed and tails pouffed and I love it! I've made Bob swear not to poodlize them further and he’s promised. He got what he wanted and can stop with the so called ‘accidental clips’. I'll never be into the bouffant, showdog look, no time to maintain it and truthfully I don’t find it attractive. It’s bad enough I have to spend time blow-drying and primping myself, a dog should be a dog and not have to spend any more time being fussed over than necessary.
So I’ve been on a journey of discovery and find it fascinating. I spent a while on the internet looking for those weather poodles. I’m not sure but I have the sense that it might be an Avon product. I remember the well-coiffed, perfumed representative coming to the house at least once a month peddling her bag of wares. It seems like something the Avon company would have manufactured, either that or Watkins’s. If anyone out there remembers the origin of these poodles please let me know as I am more than curious. I wouldn't mind finding one to have as a keepsake.
I'm 99% sure the picture is identical to the one from my childhood. This guy even looks like my Henri....it's uncanny! Once the groomer started clipping their faces I asked him to give Henri a French whisker, how did I even know about that? And Henri sits in that very pose at times, very proud with his head back. Now I'm beginning to think that I married my father too....hubby is slim like my dad always was. And apparently my dish fetish was a repressed memory. I'm beginning to wonder if I've had any original ideas as an adult!?
So Thursday I missed work due to my injured knee and then Friday I was storm stayed. By the way, thank-you all for your kind words, they were very uplifting. The song “Momma Said There’d Be Days Like This” played in my head all day long. My leg is much better today after two days of rest. In all the snow yesterday I wasn't about to risk aggravating it by shoveling my way to the road.
So yesterday, I sat nursing a very nice cup of java wondering what I should write about. Usually I'm inspired by something that happens at work and have my database of pictures and patterns to draw from. Being home, I 'm forced to jabber on about other stuff, maybe continue the theme from the day before yesterday about the willow infatuation. I actually had another epiphany I'd like to share.
I was chatting with hubby about recessed memories and triggers that evoke emotional responses and he shared an interesting story. Apparently his daughter, just shy of two years, got quite a surprise when daddy left for an ocean yacht delivery, clean shaven and smooth to return with a black growth that scared the training pants off her. She wouldn't go to him until he shaved it off. To this day she doesn’t like men with beards and it’s a make or break deal when accepting a date. And when she married, Hubby liked to tease her about marrying a guy that not only had a bare face but he was bald as well, as far away from facial hair as she could get. I can relate to that experience. A red headed boy, who apparently had a crush on me but didn’t clue in that maybe spitting in my hair wasn’t the best way to get my attention, put me off dating ginger haired men later in life.
Then I jokenly said to hubby. I wonder what happened in my past to attract me to poodles? Not one or two, but oodles of poodles. I currently have four but secretly desire more. I have visions of at least a half dozen playing in the yard and walking by my side. At risk of becoming the crazy dog lady I might have to restrain myself, but if an opportunity presented itself I don’t know if I would have the strength to walk away. A shelter poodle would be snatched up in a heart beat, and I’m sort of hankering for one of the party poodles of mixed colours. For those of you that don’t know, before the party poodle came into vogue, pups with mixed colouring would be disposed of because there wasn't a market for them. But now they fetch higher prices than solid coloured ones. Paris Hilton or some other larger than life legend of their own mind must have expressed interest and made them a hot commodity. My hubby likes a quote by Jon Stewart, “Man marvels at the beauty of nature, and then tries to fix it”.
Of all the breeds out there, I often wondered why I landed on the poodle. The only drawback is the need to be groomed once a month. I’m not willing, or have the time to do it myself and quite frankly my groomer earns every penny and should get more. Hopefully he never retires as he's top notch, with over 30 years experience doing poodle clips. I say it’s money well spent; the money saved from not indulging in cigarettes, bingo, booze and any other habits I don’t have. I would rather get rid of my TV cable than my groomer!
So as I was chatting with hubby a picture flashed in my brain, the aforementioned epiphany, and I see very clearly the poodle from my formative years. Once again, I’m a wee thing, marveling over this magical poodle that turned pink or blue depending on the weather. It held my fascination for a long time, checking it every morning while forcing down hot oatmeal. I think it turned pink for fine days and blue for stormy ones but it’s so far back my memory may be serving something I didn’t order. But I remember distinctly that the base colour was white. Hmmmmmmmm; and there's the rub!
Now I love all my babies, each one has a very different personality, each one is sweet and gentle, and loves the bones off me but….and there’s always a but…the white ones have always owned a larger percentage of my heart. Louis, the one who passed away, shared a close bond with me like an accident with crazy glue, and although I never thought I could love another dog half as much, Henri has wormed his way into my heart even more. In the past, I wondered if the colour had anything to do with it, but dismissed the notion...surely it came down to personality, but maybe now I'm not so sure. Maybe I'm drawn to them by my subconscious mind.
I certainly love the red, apricot and now the black; they are like a graduated swatch, from light to
dark. I love their colours but…and there’s that but again, the white ones give me the urge to squeeze the poop out of them, in a loving way of course, I just can't hug them enough, and bury my nose in the top of their heads and sniff their wonderful smell. So what came first, the love or the poodle? Maybe the envelope was always there waiting for white paper to be stuffed into it.
If not for Janet Delo, a fellow rug hooker, I may have missed the opportunity to discover poodles...although I believe it was destined to happen at some point. Brian, her husband, ordered an Ott-Lite from my shop for his wife for Christmas and I was going to the city for supplies so I offered to meet up with him in front of Staples to hand deliver it. I did my shopping and was waiting for him to arrive when the phone rang that he was running late. I didn't want to hang around Staples, or sit in the car with the motor running so I spied Pets Unlimited and said I would be in there, come find me.
Well, I’m looking at all the puppies when I see this little face looking at me from behind the glass. My heart had been severely broken three years earlier when my Shepherd passed away and I swore I would never have another dog. I’m loyal like that…when I love something that much, I feel guilty loving again. But there was this sweet little face saying "pick me, pick me" and I felt a flutter in my chest. The friend with me said, "go on, get her!" I phoned my hubby to get his input and all he said was, “Is she in the car already?” I said no, but I wondered what I would do with a puppy? My Max, the Shepherd, had come to me at 18 months, trained and ready to roll. I was in virgin territory and didn't know one end of a puppy from another!
So Brian shows up and the two of them pummel me with advice, telling me to go for it. Brian thought my hesitation might be monetary and even offered to lend me money to purchase her. That wasn't my problem, I knew the moment I saw her she would be mine....I was just working out a plan in my head how my life would be with a little one in tow. I asked to hold her and was told that wouldn't be possible. Apparently fanatics come into the store and asked to hold puppies with the Parvo virus on their hands, purposely hoping to kill them. That was a bit of a shocker and quite frankly I really didn't understand. Apparently, I would have to buy her to hold her so fair enough, where do I pay? So, the next thing I know we're heading home with a puppy.
One look at her and all I could think was “what a honey” so Honey she was. and we got along like a house on fire right from the start. There were a few pees on the floor until I got used to her needs but she proved to be smart and easily trained. The trouble started when I told people I'd bought a puppy from the pet store. I swear I was ignorant of puppy mills but apparently that's no excuse. At a pet supply shop when asked where I got my new puppy and I innocently said a store, the shit hit the fan. I was told, not so nicely and in a loud voice, that my little girl would be dead in three months so I’d better get her vet checked. In my defense I replied, "I thought I was saving a puppy and giving it a good home" but apparently not...instead I was just torturing the mother to produce another brood to be sold for profit, the likes of me having no care about the mother's caged and abused existence. At that very moment I was worse than the dirt on my shoes. Interesting....while I was being slammed I was handing over several hundred dollars to pay for a bed, bowl, toys and a collar for my new bundle. A strange way to treat a paying customer. I would have walked out but at the time there wasn't any other place close by to purchase items for animals and my baby needed supplies! So I took the verbal assault, paid her for abusing me and left with my wares.
I was upset to say the least. When I expressed concerns to my vet, he told me that he has seen a lot of fine animals come from pet stores. That there had been a nasty ring of mills in the past but a lot of them had been cleaned up or closed. He thought the chances of me getting one of the sickly puppies was slim as she seemed to check out beautifully and in nine years my little darling girl has never been to the vet for any problems, other than the normal spaying. After I did a bit of research on the internet about puppy mills, I changed the error of my ways and sought out breeders for my next poodles, although it was interesting that every one of them came with some health issues.....doing the right thing doesn’t always mean trouble free.
Poodles are a bit high maintenance and probably the reason they aren’t as popular as other breeds. The first thing you have to do is find a good groomer. At first I didn’t have them shaped like traditional poodles. I denied their heritage as a hunting/retriever dog, that went into the water after game. Poodles are fabulous swimmers. and their fancy clips were purposed to keep specific organs warm. But I wasn't overly keen on that pouffy look so I opted for the Teddy bear cut, just a basic all over clip. Gradually I gravitated toward the trimmed faces, paws and tails. Well actually it was more of an well engineered slip on my groomer’s part. Every now and then I would go to pick them up and he’d say ooops…I forgot you didn’t want that…I’d look at the dog, there was nothing I could do so I'd shrug and take them home. Then it would grow on me so I’d say okay, permission to do it again. Then a few more grooms would pass and there would be another slip. So now they are faced shaved, feet trimmed and tails pouffed and I love it! I've made Bob swear not to poodlize them further and he’s promised. He got what he wanted and can stop with the so called ‘accidental clips’. I'll never be into the bouffant, showdog look, no time to maintain it and truthfully I don’t find it attractive. It’s bad enough I have to spend time blow-drying and primping myself, a dog should be a dog and not have to spend any more time being fussed over than necessary.
So I’ve been on a journey of discovery and find it fascinating. I spent a while on the internet looking for those weather poodles. I’m not sure but I have the sense that it might be an Avon product. I remember the well-coiffed, perfumed representative coming to the house at least once a month peddling her bag of wares. It seems like something the Avon company would have manufactured, either that or Watkins’s. If anyone out there remembers the origin of these poodles please let me know as I am more than curious. I wouldn't mind finding one to have as a keepsake.
I'm 99% sure the picture is identical to the one from my childhood. This guy even looks like my Henri....it's uncanny! Once the groomer started clipping their faces I asked him to give Henri a French whisker, how did I even know about that? And Henri sits in that very pose at times, very proud with his head back. Now I'm beginning to think that I married my father too....hubby is slim like my dad always was. And apparently my dish fetish was a repressed memory. I'm beginning to wonder if I've had any original ideas as an adult!?
RSS Feed
