The Shit No One Tells You About Poodles
Dance Like No One is Watching
Because of the poodle’s strong sense of responsibility and family they are inclined to create a schedule that goes beyond mealtimes. They have an inner clock. When I see clients for their fifty five minute sessions, after the allotted time he looks at his watch and then the client and then gets up off the floor and says okay buddy, your time is up, now beat it. Not a word of a lie. I used to say “you’re done,” to them after their session which caused him to tilt his head and twitch his ears. He was taking in some valuable information.
Anyway, routine, from the walks at the precise hour we did it yesterday and the day before, to morning coffee. Everything is occasion, everything is to be celebrated, and on schedule. The poodle isn’t part of the family. The poodle is the family.
I have a habit of buying curious little things occasionally, practical things. One of those things are little noise makers like whistles, a kazoo, harmonica, mouth harp, train whistle and one of those things you also had as a kid where you slide the little handle and it makes the whistle go higher or lower. These usually have to be tried out on the poodle, for a response. Anyway most are kept in a drawer in the kitchen, you know that drawer that has everything in the world from redundant business cards to garbage bag tags to old batteries, rubber bands, screws, plant seeds, souvenir bric-a-brac and maps too. Headphones. Remotes.
Anyway the whistles remain relevant, and somehow a tradition was created in our more mobile days, where I would blow one of the whistles and the poodle would leap. Soon I was circling the kitchen island, and then soon after that I was marching and then soon a song emerged into the mix, as the poodle leapt after me, top knot and ears following his trajectory and soon we were marching throughout the main floor of the house while the coffee brewed and toast toasted. And out of our parade came the song “The March of the Baby Poodles” It goes like this in case you are ever inclined to do the same. You must be marching and blowing a cheap whistle. I suppose you could use a clarinet or even a violin. Maybe a tambourine: “The March of the baby poodles, here they come, the march of the baby poodles, one by one, the march of the baby poodle can you see, the march of the baby poodles one two threeeeeeee! Yippee!” Accompanied by lots of jumping barking and catching of breath. Even some congratulatory hugs if we can control our joy. It has been known to get pretty out of control and is a good wake up song.
Our routines morph, they change, according to our abilities but they are always accompanied by a sense of occasion. Bedtime at eight with a Greenie or two, and special outings on the weekend, we know because baked goods mean a special walk follows, and hey, it’s the weekend. That’s the way we do things. So many blessings to be able to carve out some silliness.
I love that he has his own wake-up song! Love all the photos too.