I am adding Poodles because they belong here

I woke up this morning to the snuggle of Annie, one of the Poodles who has shared my bed and sometimes my pillow for years. And I realized that a big part of my life with Cresteds is because of my life with Poodles - so I changed this blog to reflect that.

The reason I vendored at Dog Shows was to afford my poodles. The reason I was at Dog Shows in the first place was the poodles. So they are as much a part of my life with my Cresties as I am. In fact, most of time when I look at a dog bed, it is shared by a Crested and a Poodle.

So let me turn to my very first Poodle. Her name was Queenie (how original, right?). She was cafe-au-lait and a miniature. My mother bought her for me when I was in grade school. I had loved Poodles already and she quickly became my bed mate, snuggling under the covers with me and sleeping with her head on my pillow. Queenie helped us learn about dog shows and was my mother's foundation bitch of her small kennel. All of our dogs lived with us in the home and in our beds.

At least two times, the dogs were our heroes. One time, the furnace had started to smolder and was already putting smoke into the house. The dogs insisted on waking us and probably saved our lives as we ran from the soon to be burning home. My mom threw the dogs in the family car which she parked across the street from our home.

Another time, my mother was reading in bed and about to turn out the lights when Cy led the charge out of her bedroom and toward the living room. As my mother grabbed her robe and followed him in the living room, she saw the door slam shut and a piece of fabric was in Cy's mouth. The next morning we learned that many homes in the neighborhood had been burgled. Over the course of the next year, the dog population on that block increased.

Cy was my mother's favorite dog. She bought him from a kennel out of pure pity. He cowered before her with everyone of his ribs showing. The vet said he was one step short of rickets. He shied from everyone. In fact, the first day, he bit my mother when she tried to pick him up. However, she was determined to see what she and he could do. He cowered from a hairbrush and growled at brooms.

Over time, he settled down and became my mother's shadow. Wherever she went in the house, Cy went. My father used to say that she was safe because he was not going to let anyone hurt her in any way. After that first day, with the exception of the night of the break in, though, I never saw him bite anyone, no matter what kind of display he portrayed. He became Queenie's mate and when she died, he mourned for weeks.

He was never the same, although he did regain much of his former self when a new puppy, Dream, insisted on working her way into his heart. He would lay down and she would curl up between his feet. At first, he was too depressed to care and since she insisted, he got used to it. As she grew, he warmed to her and they eventually became a pair.

Cy eventually died of old age. For the rest of her years, my mother would talk about him quite often. As much as she loved other dogs, Cy had the lock on her deepest heart space.

So in many ways, Queenie and Cy are why I now have Cresteds. More on the family soon!

Thanks for reading this blog. I appreciate you!