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| A shaggy Stetson |
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| Stetson after a spa visit |
While Hoss is my "guard" dog, Stetson was my buddy. Hoss sleeps next to my bed between me and any danger while Stetson fully believed he was entitled to his share and a large part of my share of the bed. Add a few kitties and sleeping was a creative effort.
I fell in love with Standard Poodles over sixty years ago when we visited my Dad's family ranch outside of Butte Montana as part of our "discover America" cross country trip - part of the American lexicon in the 50's. In Montana I was transported to the land of my dreams - Big Sky, cows, horses, old silver mines, wonderful trout streams, the prospect of an engineering college. When I realized I was going to be wrenched away from this wonderland I took a mare named Sally Rand, a rifle and a dog and spent twenty four hours wandering the high Rocky Mountains. Alas - the dog went home, the mare didn't care to stray too far from the herd and I wasn't really wilderness savvy enough to stray too far myself. I hoped I had made my point - my aunts, who had managed to raise a passle of boys but not a single girl were delighted at the prospect of taking over the rest of my upbringing but it simply didn't fit into my parent's box.
I remained surly for the remainder of the trip and indeed, even into my late thirties when I moved to Arizona and found Romero, my first horse.
But the image that remained strongest with me from the ranch was the dogs. Big lovely black shaggy things. There were a couple of cattle dogs on the ranch (like the one which abandoned me in the mountains) but the ones I loved were the "all around" dogs - herding cattle, hunting deer, elk and bear and generally being big furry guys. They were Standard Poodles. Not what you'd see in the show ring or at a bird hunter's side. They were clipped twice a year like sheep and had shorter noses and broader heads and chests than the fancy poodles I had seen at Madison Square Garden. They were awesome and influenced my canine preferences forever.
My own very first dog was a Cocker Spaniel - a pup I purchased from a neighbor's show champion litter with my babysitting money. I spent hours and hours training him with hand commands and teaching him agility tricks before it was known as a "sport". Star was banished when he nipped at a paper boy who kicked him. Any further attempt to bring home a furry creature was met with immediate removal.
Like horses, dogs didn't reenter my life until my thirties. That began a series of Pound Puppies - a noble breed of dogs to be found in shelters, on Craig's list, abandoned in parking lots and from friends needing a home for a dog. The ones I found tended to be tall (except for Charlie dog) and shaggy and remarkably devoted. Stetson was the only "purebred" of the bunch and is sorely missed.
Since losing Stetson I've been tempted to look around for another pup. But Hoss is getting old (fourteen) and seems to enjoy being an "only"dog for now. And I'm not sure I'm up for the vigilance, lost sleep and rattlesnake training bring up a puppy in the desert requires.
But you can be sure that when I am ready it will be another shaggy bundle of fur - maybe one who doesn't take up so much room on my bed this time.
(Great link to some nice working Poodles http://www.marquisdiamondstandardpoodles.com/workingdogs.html)
