Frosty was a smaller, petite silver miniature poodle who was bred by an amazing woman named Monique. Monique was a dog judge and she walked with a limp because, when she was a young school girl in Paris, the German's shot her in the hip when they occupied the city. She adored her silver poodles and over the years, she allowed us to become owned by two of her special ones, Frosty and Sterling.
Frosty came to live with us as young puppy. One of the charming things about young silver poodles is that they are almost always born with a black coat that "clears" to the silver. Frosty was that way. At 8+ weeks, she was a tiny silver nose peeking out of a black fuzz ball. And that is how she earned the name Frosty. She reminded us of a puppy sticking its nose into snow and coming out frosted.
She didn't like to show, largely because there was nothing about showing that excited her. She ate almost enough to live; food was, to her, a necessary evil for living and nothing more. Nothing excited her: not steak, not liver, not even hot dogs! Well, there was one food stuff she liked a bit and that was whipped cream, not exactly good ring bait. We used to joke about saying to the judge, "excuse me a minute while I whip up some cream for my dog." Perhaps we could have carried a Reddi-Whip can into the ring? We tried toys, leaves, anything we could think of, and nothing worked. So after a short show career, Frosty retired to the obedience ring, where she earned a CD. Somewhere along the way to CDX, she decided that was enough obedience and sat down one day and stopped working. When Frosty decided something, there was no point in discussing it further. After that time, she spent some time with pups and most of her time on our couch.
There was one thing that Frosty did with a passion, and that was cleaning faces. She cleaned her puppies faces and she cleaned everyone else's face as well. Also feet of humans. Whatever Frosty wanted to clean, it got clean. I never knew a 12-14 pound poodle could have so much force in her paws when she clamped your foot down! As for the other dogs, they learned to let Frosty clean their faces when the mood moved her. It was easier to give in to her. Made the ordeal shorter, too.
One of our favorite memories of Frosty was when she and her son Beau were sitting on the back part of the sofa in the motorhome. It was during a break on one of our trips and the dogs were relaxing here and there in the coach. Many of the poodles liked to sit on the back of the sofa, and this afternoon it was Frosty and Beau.
We were sitting in the dinette across from the sofa just looking at the dogs, the coach, this and that. All of a sudden, both Bill and I saw two looks cross Frosty and Beau's faces. Hers said: "I could clean his face!" and his said, "&^00^% - She's going to clean my face!" and before Beau could move off of the back of the sofa, Frosty turned to him and started cleaning his face. Poor Beau. I am sure our laughter made his agony that much worse. My only regret is that we did not have a camera at that moment. Beau's regret was that somehow he ended up sitting next to Frosty.
As I said earlier, when Frosty decided something, it was decided and the case was closed. Period. She wasn't Alpha, she was just Frosty.
Thanks for reading this blog. I appreciate you!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Monday, May 31, 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Harley - the day he became a "keeper"
Harley was the only hairless in his litter of three. His mother Skippy was a smallish thing and her two litters with me were both small. Freckles' litter was two babies.
So we hung on to Harley out of hope that he might be "okay" - after all, we were just getting started in Cresties. Harley was Duncan's first litter, and, and....
Freckle was good looking, typey, showey and flakey. He looked good in the ring -- when you could get him to put 4 legs down at one time!
Harley, on the other hand, was very laid back, maybe even a little shy. Duncan, a Tri-colored Puff, had acquired some points, but was still lacking his majors when he was bred to Skippy and she never finished. Harley was clearly sound and moved around the back yard just fine, but he never looked thrilled in crowds. Hmmm.
So we were at a show weekend and the club was having a puppy match the first evening after the show. We took Freckle to see if we could teach him that walking and gaiting meant keeping most of your feet on the ground most of the time, a lesson that was still eluding him at the time. Harley came along just to see about getting him socialized. I imagined a long slow process of teaching him that rings could be fun.... pretty enough to win, yes - but where was the sparkle going to come from? Well, I thought, there is time. Freckle had a couple of points and finishing him was not going to be a 1-2-3 deal, despite his good looks.
Bill held Harley as we stood at ring side and he was clear that he did not think this was a fun idea. (actually both Bill and Harley shared that look!)
And so, expecting an almost embarrassing adventure, I slid him to the ground and into the ring. He stepped across the threshold of the ring and looked around with an unsure look as we moved into position for the first stacking. Even though we had practiced this "skill", Harley was not pleased to have me place any part of him in any particular place and almost took glee at moving everything at least once after I placed it. Sigh.
"Please gait your dogs and place them on the table."
Harley, have some bait and let's give this a try, okay?
Well, I am still not sure what went through that little head, but as I moved forward, up came the head and tail and Harley was ON. The little legs moved like a dream and as I gave him more lead he moved on out. I am sure that my expression was amusing. He had a great time and he was teaching me how to be his handler.
The table was "ok" because I still held him - he still does not like me to hold him on a table or on the ground. Grooming still earns me a scowl, although he had learned to hold better.
On the down and back I gave him lead and he was great! I was surprised! We came back to the judge and he looked up at him and cocked his head slightly. Then we gaited back into place and by now, I am clearly following Harley as the necessary appendage at the top of the lead.
I had never had a dog that looked so lack-luster at ringside and so spectacular in the ring!
He won that day and so his career was started. I knew we were going to have a lot of fun in the ring and I think he did too.
It became a game at some shows where there were exhibitors who did not know him. We would watch them size him up as no competition based on his ringside behavior. Boy, were they wrong! I used to watch their faces as Harley moved out in the ring.
And as soon as the showing was over, he was again the retiring shy one in Bill's arms or by Bill's feet.
It was always fun to watch Harley flip the switch as he entered the ring.
More about Harley tomorrow!
Thanks SO MUCH for reading this blog - I appreciate you!
Candy
So we hung on to Harley out of hope that he might be "okay" - after all, we were just getting started in Cresties. Harley was Duncan's first litter, and, and....
Freckle was good looking, typey, showey and flakey. He looked good in the ring -- when you could get him to put 4 legs down at one time!
Harley, on the other hand, was very laid back, maybe even a little shy. Duncan, a Tri-colored Puff, had acquired some points, but was still lacking his majors when he was bred to Skippy and she never finished. Harley was clearly sound and moved around the back yard just fine, but he never looked thrilled in crowds. Hmmm.
So we were at a show weekend and the club was having a puppy match the first evening after the show. We took Freckle to see if we could teach him that walking and gaiting meant keeping most of your feet on the ground most of the time, a lesson that was still eluding him at the time. Harley came along just to see about getting him socialized. I imagined a long slow process of teaching him that rings could be fun.... pretty enough to win, yes - but where was the sparkle going to come from? Well, I thought, there is time. Freckle had a couple of points and finishing him was not going to be a 1-2-3 deal, despite his good looks.
Bill held Harley as we stood at ring side and he was clear that he did not think this was a fun idea. (actually both Bill and Harley shared that look!)
And so, expecting an almost embarrassing adventure, I slid him to the ground and into the ring. He stepped across the threshold of the ring and looked around with an unsure look as we moved into position for the first stacking. Even though we had practiced this "skill", Harley was not pleased to have me place any part of him in any particular place and almost took glee at moving everything at least once after I placed it. Sigh.
"Please gait your dogs and place them on the table."
Harley, have some bait and let's give this a try, okay?
Well, I am still not sure what went through that little head, but as I moved forward, up came the head and tail and Harley was ON. The little legs moved like a dream and as I gave him more lead he moved on out. I am sure that my expression was amusing. He had a great time and he was teaching me how to be his handler.
The table was "ok" because I still held him - he still does not like me to hold him on a table or on the ground. Grooming still earns me a scowl, although he had learned to hold better.
On the down and back I gave him lead and he was great! I was surprised! We came back to the judge and he looked up at him and cocked his head slightly. Then we gaited back into place and by now, I am clearly following Harley as the necessary appendage at the top of the lead.
I had never had a dog that looked so lack-luster at ringside and so spectacular in the ring!
He won that day and so his career was started. I knew we were going to have a lot of fun in the ring and I think he did too.
It became a game at some shows where there were exhibitors who did not know him. We would watch them size him up as no competition based on his ringside behavior. Boy, were they wrong! I used to watch their faces as Harley moved out in the ring.
And as soon as the showing was over, he was again the retiring shy one in Bill's arms or by Bill's feet.
It was always fun to watch Harley flip the switch as he entered the ring.
More about Harley tomorrow!
Thanks SO MUCH for reading this blog - I appreciate you!
Candy
Monday, May 17, 2010
Glitter and the flies
Glitter is a special HL girl. She is one of Freckles' few daughters, born from one of Sandy's girls. We picked her up from Sandy at a dog show when she was about 5 months and set out for home (Ohio then) with our new baby in tow. I don't remember which show it was, just the it was a fair distance on one of the turnpikes or toll roads.
We had been driving for a while, Bill driving the RV and me driving the van behind him. We drove into a rest stop where we "grassed" the dogs and then pulled over to stretch our own legs for a bit. Somebody there noticed the dogs in the van and the crates you could see from the front window of the RV and struck up a conversation. We talked, of course, about the Cresties - what a surprise! The people, not surprisingly, knew nothing about the breed, and so Bill decided to bring Glitter out for a little socialization.
Needless to say, there was considerable mutual love going back and forth and we even gave them our number for a possible future puppy. Nothing exciting or unusual so far.
Bill returned to the RV and I to the van as I waited for hi sign so that we could set out for the next part of the journey. He radioed that he needed to check something in the rear of the RV, so I waited. A few moments later, we set out.
Some time down the road, as Bill is talking to me on the CB, he breaks out in laughter and it's the kind that won't stop. Mind you, I have no idea what is causing his laughter, but at least the RV is still going straight.
What was so funny?
Well, it seems that when he stepped into the RV and realized that the back window or vent(I'm not sure which) needed to be closed, he put Glitter down "for a moment" while he tended to the immediate task. As he came forward, Glitter was not in sight - she had crawled under the passenger seat - and he was not accustomed to her in the "head count", so he slid into his seat without returning her to her crate.
Some time later, the black flies we had picked up at the show - about 300-400 or so (not that I exaggerate....) were buzzing about the RV. I guess they got to Glitter - I know they were bothering us! So Glitter demonstrated her amazing prowess by taking leaps and catching flies. According to Bill, she was amazing - a leap followed by a chomping sound.
So we stopped in the next rest stop and Bill returned her to her crate.
It is a skill and trait that she has passed on to her children. I have had reports of fly-leaping in her babies and I have seen it in some of them myself. And every time I see it or hear about it, I remember her in the RV - even though I never actually saw those first leaps....
Thanks for reading! I appreciate you!
Candy
We had been driving for a while, Bill driving the RV and me driving the van behind him. We drove into a rest stop where we "grassed" the dogs and then pulled over to stretch our own legs for a bit. Somebody there noticed the dogs in the van and the crates you could see from the front window of the RV and struck up a conversation. We talked, of course, about the Cresties - what a surprise! The people, not surprisingly, knew nothing about the breed, and so Bill decided to bring Glitter out for a little socialization.
Needless to say, there was considerable mutual love going back and forth and we even gave them our number for a possible future puppy. Nothing exciting or unusual so far.
Bill returned to the RV and I to the van as I waited for hi sign so that we could set out for the next part of the journey. He radioed that he needed to check something in the rear of the RV, so I waited. A few moments later, we set out.
Some time down the road, as Bill is talking to me on the CB, he breaks out in laughter and it's the kind that won't stop. Mind you, I have no idea what is causing his laughter, but at least the RV is still going straight.
What was so funny?
Well, it seems that when he stepped into the RV and realized that the back window or vent(I'm not sure which) needed to be closed, he put Glitter down "for a moment" while he tended to the immediate task. As he came forward, Glitter was not in sight - she had crawled under the passenger seat - and he was not accustomed to her in the "head count", so he slid into his seat without returning her to her crate.
Some time later, the black flies we had picked up at the show - about 300-400 or so (not that I exaggerate....) were buzzing about the RV. I guess they got to Glitter - I know they were bothering us! So Glitter demonstrated her amazing prowess by taking leaps and catching flies. According to Bill, she was amazing - a leap followed by a chomping sound.
So we stopped in the next rest stop and Bill returned her to her crate.
It is a skill and trait that she has passed on to her children. I have had reports of fly-leaping in her babies and I have seen it in some of them myself. And every time I see it or hear about it, I remember her in the RV - even though I never actually saw those first leaps....
Thanks for reading! I appreciate you!
Candy
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Ahh, Cresties! They came into my life twice...
Hi Everyone!
This is a blog to which I truly hope you will contribute. At the request of Shirley, a FB friend, I am starting this blog and I think she has a great idea! There are SO MANY of us Crested staff out there, that talking about living with them is well worth the time and effort.
Before Cresteds, Bill and I raised Poodles - toys and minis, red and silver - I never was one to take the "easy path"...
Then came the Cresteds. I saw my first one at a Detroit dog show in the dimly lit fairgrounds and fell in love. I saw one being carried and simply walked after it, leaving my husband standing there with half a sentence spoken. While that was the beginning of the love affair, I saw no way to add Cresteds to my already full home, so I resigned myself to a "love affair from a distance".
I was very engaged in Poodle rescue at the time, and that actually led to Berrie, my first Crested. We got a call to see if we could pick up a small black Poodle "with a little white on it" - ah, a parti-color. We arranged to have them bring the dog to my mother's shop and we would retrieve her from there. We would later learn that my mother had tried to reject Berrie because she was not a Poodle. We typically placed about 2-3 Poodles a month and that was about all the time and resources we could give to rescue, so we limited ourselves to the breed/varieties about which we knew the most. My friends, who had "run the intercept" for me to bring Berrie to the shop told her that I knew all about Berrie and that it was OK. At the time, I was working at Goodyear, and my Mom was not able to connect with me, so Berrie stayed.
She was a frailish black "puff" with what I would later learn was a veil coat. My friends (professional handlers) knew I had this secret love affair and so they arranged for Berrie to become a pet, knowing I would not have moved forward on my own. Despite Bill's weak objections, Crazy Berrie was there to stay....
Then came Skippy. We were at the dog show in Lexington at the Horse Grounds. The show was over and we were tearing down our booth. Sandy, the hat lady, was also tearing down her booth next door. All of a sudden, I look down and there is a Crested dancing around my feet. I scooped her up and went to Sandy and told her that something had wandered into my booth and if she wasn't careful, I was going to have a new member of my household. Sandy laughed and returned Skippy to her place and tear down continued. We were just pulling out of the campgrounds and getting on the highway when my cel phone rang and it was Sandy. We talked for a awhile and then she asked if I WOULD like to become Skippy's mom. The next show, Skippy came home with us, became a solid owner of one corner of my pillow and then became the mother to Freckle, a crazy black HL, who took BoB his first time out at 6 months (TOO crazy to be a Special) and his younger brother Harley, our group winner. Both of them are now retired - Harley loves his Dining Room chair and Freckle is still as crazy as he ever was.
More tomorrow!
Thanks for reading! I appreciate you!
Candy
This is a blog to which I truly hope you will contribute. At the request of Shirley, a FB friend, I am starting this blog and I think she has a great idea! There are SO MANY of us Crested staff out there, that talking about living with them is well worth the time and effort.
Before Cresteds, Bill and I raised Poodles - toys and minis, red and silver - I never was one to take the "easy path"...
Then came the Cresteds. I saw my first one at a Detroit dog show in the dimly lit fairgrounds and fell in love. I saw one being carried and simply walked after it, leaving my husband standing there with half a sentence spoken. While that was the beginning of the love affair, I saw no way to add Cresteds to my already full home, so I resigned myself to a "love affair from a distance".
I was very engaged in Poodle rescue at the time, and that actually led to Berrie, my first Crested. We got a call to see if we could pick up a small black Poodle "with a little white on it" - ah, a parti-color. We arranged to have them bring the dog to my mother's shop and we would retrieve her from there. We would later learn that my mother had tried to reject Berrie because she was not a Poodle. We typically placed about 2-3 Poodles a month and that was about all the time and resources we could give to rescue, so we limited ourselves to the breed/varieties about which we knew the most. My friends, who had "run the intercept" for me to bring Berrie to the shop told her that I knew all about Berrie and that it was OK. At the time, I was working at Goodyear, and my Mom was not able to connect with me, so Berrie stayed.
She was a frailish black "puff" with what I would later learn was a veil coat. My friends (professional handlers) knew I had this secret love affair and so they arranged for Berrie to become a pet, knowing I would not have moved forward on my own. Despite Bill's weak objections, Crazy Berrie was there to stay....
Then came Skippy. We were at the dog show in Lexington at the Horse Grounds. The show was over and we were tearing down our booth. Sandy, the hat lady, was also tearing down her booth next door. All of a sudden, I look down and there is a Crested dancing around my feet. I scooped her up and went to Sandy and told her that something had wandered into my booth and if she wasn't careful, I was going to have a new member of my household. Sandy laughed and returned Skippy to her place and tear down continued. We were just pulling out of the campgrounds and getting on the highway when my cel phone rang and it was Sandy. We talked for a awhile and then she asked if I WOULD like to become Skippy's mom. The next show, Skippy came home with us, became a solid owner of one corner of my pillow and then became the mother to Freckle, a crazy black HL, who took BoB his first time out at 6 months (TOO crazy to be a Special) and his younger brother Harley, our group winner. Both of them are now retired - Harley loves his Dining Room chair and Freckle is still as crazy as he ever was.
More tomorrow!
Thanks for reading! I appreciate you!
Candy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
