The Shit No One Tells You About Poodles

The Celebratory Poodle

Even though the poodle was a gift and is gifted and continues to delight and unwrap himself in many new ways, even now delighting us with little bits of new behaviour (I’ll have my dinner over here tonight, I’ve decided I don’t like the cheesy treats quite as much as the duck, but only for today, don’t cuddle me, just massage my haunches), the poodle is one for celebrations and not to be left out. As a child my poodle Julie was very good at slipping under the Christmas tree (after licking all of the icing clean off a cake my mother had made causing my mother to wonder if she had in fact iced the cake) and sussing out gifts meant for her, usually something round and spongy like a ball. In fact, we decorated the bottom of the tree with what became known as the ‘dog ornaments’, the kind that wouldn’t break, but simply make a hollow knocking sound when they dropped to the ground.

Gift giving times like birthdays and Christmas are imbued with a sense of occasion, and when you have a poodle, there is a massive amount of help in the unwrapping department. Gifts are bought with the sole purpose to watch what the poodle will do. It feeds the economy and yes, the recycling bin. I try to balance this out in other ways––being a vegan, working from home, growing my own vegetables, power napping.

The unwrapping process usually starts with a heavy chin pressing onto your arm with two very sadly seductive eyes looking up under his bangs to indicate that you won’t be unwrapping that gift alone. Will you? You might need a little help. The next step might be a careful nibble at the tissue, following your lead of course, or a pull at the ribbon. From there you must pretty quickly give over control to the poodle whose snout searches for the best way into the wrapping, and soon the occasion, whether a milestone birthday or just Amazon delivering your exercise bands, is about the unwrapping, not about the gift.

Wrapping is pulled away at angles––a cross between the dexterous handy work of playing the dramatic opening chords of Rachmaninoff’s first piano concerto––or any Rachmaninoff piano concerto for that matter––and trying to impress your friends by spinning pizza dough high above your head (like they do in pizzerias), that is, unfortunately too sticky––or simply swatting at a wasp––until the poodle is left with the soaked shreds or tissue, and remnants of ribbon and tape stuck to his ears and you are left with the mere insignificant gift. The winds of gratitude fallen from your droopy sails because the poodle has once again stolen the show. Who cares about the cologne? The scented candle? The Ferrari? Having a poodle stick their whole head in a gift bag to make absolutely one hundred percent sure that there is nothing still left, perhaps forgotten, like a diamond ring or Fabergé bauble, is worth the price of whatever the gift itself cost.

It could be a cheesy, no, a ducky treat, for all the poodle cared, as long as you took the time to mindfully wrap and not just toss the gifts in a cute bag followed by some tissue paper. One must keep up their standards. Why the hell give gifts if they cannot be wrapped and unwrapped? Why celebrate? Why have occasions in the first place!?