Randomly Peeing Poodles
Get your daily dose of Lighten Up over at Muzik’s site, he has an awesome poodle story (can’t wait for the poodle’s owners’ reaction when they read it!)
I have to confess, I’ve done a lot of thinking about poodles myself in the past few years. For the last three years, K9 has been begging for a dog, but Mr. Goldie and I12 are both mildly allergic. Technically, poodle would be an ideal breed for us as it does not cause allergies in people. However, I have my doubts. You see, back in Russia, a friend of mine had a king poodle, and I am not sure if I want to repeat her experiences.
The poodle’s name was Patrick. Patrick was large, strong, fuzzy, and very much a guy. He ruled the household with an iron paw. Every morning at 6 AM, he’d come into my friend’s bedroom to wake her up for a morning walk. If she didn’t get up fast enough, he’d pee on the rug, staring her straight in the eyes the whole time. One day he decided to bring the disciplinary measures up a notch and bit her on the face instead. She came to work with a black eye. My friend and her family loved Patrick. He was generally a nice guy.
It was the early nineties, and we in Russia experienced a shortage of everything, including money. On a rare occasion, my friend’s family would go out and buy a little meat. Half the time, Patrick got it. He’d grab the meat as soon as the owners’ backs were turned.
In ’91, we were introduced to food rationing. Among other things, a person was only allowed to buy one kg of sugar per month. This was pretty tight as most people grew their own food and made preserves for the rest of the year. My friend’s family consisted of three people, so, when she redeemed their coupons for the whole summer, she got nine kg. That was a lot of sugar, my friend couldn’t decide where to store it, and shoved it behind a cupboard in the kitchen.
Fast forward two months, my friend returned from her garden with a ton of fruits and decided to get started on the preserves. She went to get the sugar. The sugar didn’t look right. It was kind of yellow and kind of wet. It looked like somebody had peed in it. In fact, that’s how it smelled, too. Patrick had struck again.
We all chipped in at work. Everyone brought in as much sugar as they could spare, and my friend was able to make her fruit preserves. The family’s love for Patrick has magically increased after the incident. In fact, I liked him too. He had a lot of rugged, masculine poodle charm. Problem is, I am now kind of squeamish about owning a poodle myself. Who knows what he can pee into.
I have to confess, I’ve done a lot of thinking about poodles myself in the past few years. For the last three years, K9 has been begging for a dog, but Mr. Goldie and I12 are both mildly allergic. Technically, poodle would be an ideal breed for us as it does not cause allergies in people. However, I have my doubts. You see, back in Russia, a friend of mine had a king poodle, and I am not sure if I want to repeat her experiences.
The poodle’s name was Patrick. Patrick was large, strong, fuzzy, and very much a guy. He ruled the household with an iron paw. Every morning at 6 AM, he’d come into my friend’s bedroom to wake her up for a morning walk. If she didn’t get up fast enough, he’d pee on the rug, staring her straight in the eyes the whole time. One day he decided to bring the disciplinary measures up a notch and bit her on the face instead. She came to work with a black eye. My friend and her family loved Patrick. He was generally a nice guy.
It was the early nineties, and we in Russia experienced a shortage of everything, including money. On a rare occasion, my friend’s family would go out and buy a little meat. Half the time, Patrick got it. He’d grab the meat as soon as the owners’ backs were turned.
In ’91, we were introduced to food rationing. Among other things, a person was only allowed to buy one kg of sugar per month. This was pretty tight as most people grew their own food and made preserves for the rest of the year. My friend’s family consisted of three people, so, when she redeemed their coupons for the whole summer, she got nine kg. That was a lot of sugar, my friend couldn’t decide where to store it, and shoved it behind a cupboard in the kitchen.
Fast forward two months, my friend returned from her garden with a ton of fruits and decided to get started on the preserves. She went to get the sugar. The sugar didn’t look right. It was kind of yellow and kind of wet. It looked like somebody had peed in it. In fact, that’s how it smelled, too. Patrick had struck again.
We all chipped in at work. Everyone brought in as much sugar as they could spare, and my friend was able to make her fruit preserves. The family’s love for Patrick has magically increased after the incident. In fact, I liked him too. He had a lot of rugged, masculine poodle charm. Problem is, I am now kind of squeamish about owning a poodle myself. Who knows what he can pee into.
