Poodle Tricks: My Confession(part 1)

Some family stories are meant to be passed down through the years to serve as a source of pride for each new generation. Unfortunately, this story is one of those that shouldn’t be mentioned, at least to a gathering of sober listeners. But, since I have not managed to find the time yet to conquer a distant kingdom, or to discover a new planet, or to even figure out how to get the clock on my DVD player to stop blinking, I guess this tale will have to do.

Growing up in the country, my family had a countless variety of animals mingling about doing their part to keep us kids occupied. We had creatures that flapped and flew, some that tramped and trotted, and some that stampeded and strayed. Visitors must have thought that Noah’s Ark had made an unscheduled stop and lightened it’s load here before continuing on to it’s final landing spot. I got along pretty well with all of the animals with one exception; the tiny toy poodles that were the house pets.

At first it was just one poodle that I had to tolerate. Then my mother had her bred and the little fur ball begat an exact clone of herself and suddenly there were two little prima donnas prancing across the kitchen tile, their dainty painted toenails clicking like a pair of four legged tap dancers. They were just too wimpy for my tastes and they figured out pretty quickly that we weren’t going to be pals. They made sure that they stayed within the safety of my mother’s presence whenever I was around. But, I have to give those two credit in that they were pretty smart. They knew that I imagined dark scenarios regarding their demise and they began a proactive campaign to ensure their well-being.

The poodles started studying me and keeping tabs on my patterns. They noted which TV shows I liked and which books I read. They peeked around corners and listened to my phone conversations. When I was away they snuck into my room and reconnoitered my closet and under my bed. Then they waited for the right moment to launch operation Curly Hair.

One evening as the family was watching TV the poodles strutted up and sat down in front of me. Then they just stared. I ignored them at first, but then grew aggravated at their blatant attention. I was eating popcorn so I flicked a piece at them in irritation. Their response caught me completely off guard. As the popcorn flew at them they leapt up and one of them grabbed it in mid air. This made me laugh, so of course I threw another. This time the piece flew overhead and the poodles chased after it, snarling and snapping at each other in order to be the one to win the treat. I kept tossing and they kept retrieving in a hilarious fashion. Thus began an unexpected partnership between the pampered pygmies and myself. We practiced each day and developed quite an act. Finally came the day when it was time for our first public performance. I’m not saying that we were as great as the Beatles on Ed Sullivan’s show, but in the canine world of entertainment, I think that we were pretty darn close.

To be continued…