Nicknames: Daws (or DOS short for Doggie Operating System), Buddy Boy, Black Dog, Dog 2, Handsome Lad, Bud
Birthday: July 9th 1997
Likes: 2-hour belly rubs, chasing squirrels, and other live squeeky toys, digging, rolling in especially smelly things.
Pet-Peeves: Mom going on and on and on about how great Poodles are. Instead of whining, I've joined the ranks. LONG LIVE POODLES! POODLES ROCK!
Favorite Toy: Anything I can dismember. Although since Holly has lost interest in toys, some of the joy has gone out of them. I still destuff them and arrange the stuffing in an artistic manner.
Favorite Food: Salmon. Although fresh rainbow trout is a good second.
Favorite Walk: Anywhere there are tall grasses to hide in or squirrlies to chase up trees.
Best Tricks: Playing dumb. I've got mom thinking I'm too stupid to do tricks. So Holly does the tricks, I share the treats. Pretty sweet.
Arrival Story: Well, I used to be with another family in Montana. But one day, the little beast I was living with got too rough so I snapped at him. Next thing I knew I was in Doggie Jail. I tried to explain it wasn't my fault, I was pushed too far, but no one really believed me. This nice lady came and walked me for a while, and then decided to take me home. I was so grateful I would do anything for her. I did not really understand why she was upset when I jumped from the floor to the top of the dining room table. I was soo happy I leapt for joy - I just couldn't stand there on the floor any longer. I knew I had found a great person to care for me the first time we met a toddler together. I was so scared I ran and hid behind her legs and shook. She said she'd protect me and over the years my fear has left me. It has taken me a while to figure the rules out here - like no jumping on the tables and Holly First - but slowly I'm learning just how to twist both of them around my tail. Life is so good I just love everyone - so please pet me. (engaging cute poodle stare) Pet me. Pet me. (engaging smart poodle nose-to-hand nudge) Come on, You can Do it. Peeeeet Meeeee.
Bio: Editor's Note: I have to say that Dawson is really a gentlemanly dog. He is so careful about where he places his feet and tries so hard to keep out of my way. As to how he gets those two hour belly rubs - he waits until you're distracted - reading a book, watching a movie. Then he lies next to you (on the couch of course), places his head on your knee and sighs. So you stroke him. Meanwhile, he's performing advanced calculus in his head to determine the optimum position of his belly relative to your stroking motion. Once that is figured out, he rolls over and wiggles into position. So, now there is no stress to your arm and his belly fur is soft, silky and does not tangle. Plus, there are soft sighs and quiet grunts and moans that keep you motivated to pet the belly. If you stop, he lies still and waits. You will be back. Next thing you know, you have spent the last two hours rubbing his belly. And he thinks I think he is stupid. Dumb Dog.
Forums Motto: Later inner poodle, it's MY belly rub.
On Christmas Eve, Dawson had a seizure like episode that left him gasping for breath and scared. I thought that losing this boy would be the absolute worst Christmas present ever, but thankfully Holly intervened and told my boy he needed to remain until I was ready to let him go. After a few terror filled hours he began resting peacefully. Unfortunately, he developed a rather persistent cough that necessitated a trip to the vet. There was a rather noxious strain of kennel cough in the area, and although he had been vaccinated the vet thought that he had still contracted the disease as we had been to a play date at a local pet store. We traipsed home with medicine and were pleased that the cough seemed to improve. Unfortunately, about a week later, Dawson started to ignore the small things, like dinner, and breakfast.
His breathing was still labored, and I became suspicious when neither Ginger nor Buddy showed any signs of contracting the horrible strain of kennel cough although both had been around Dawson when he would have been infectious. Yesterday, once again we visited the vet and had x-rays taken. His body cavity is filled with fluid, which is pressing down on his lungs making it difficult for him to breathe. His left lung shows signs of hardening, which may indicate that cancer has taken a hold of his body. The vet was concerned when my response was merely to say that I would come by to take him home.
It took me a while to understand that the Vet was afraid that I was one of those parents who would be unable to face the needful task of ending his suffering. Once that thought had penetrated my grief, I was able to let her know that I was merely taking him home so that I could let him know how much he had meant to me and how much I would miss him.
I have one more day left with the boy whose heart is as big as the sky, who is so gentle that toddlers can pet him without fear of being pushed over, and whose patience allowed a small red poodle puppy to try and tug him by the tail across the lawn. He has dined on salmon and beer, and right now is resting quietly at my feet. Tomorrow he will be abl to chase the mule deer with abandon, hunt rabbits to his hearts content, and soothe all the ruffled souls who have had to deal with the Hollidog.. I love you with all my heart, my precious boy. I will miss your soft fur, your liquid eyes, and your boundless love for all.
"May you see with the eyes of light in the everdark, may your mind walk free and unfettered amongst all, touching wisely and well, may you go in peace. But wait for me beloved."
You have GOT to be kidding me. My Aunt just adopted another one of those wee curly attack dogs. My sister is a poodle, my uncle is a poodle, my cousins are all poodles and I even have a cousin once removed who is a poodle! It's enough to make any dog renounce his poodleness when he contemplates how much pouncing on the head that adds up to. Why do I hear ghostly Holli laughter and the faint barked words "be careful what you wish for!" I didn't wish to be surrounded by poodles. I wanted to be an only poodle in a household with a poodle loving Mom.
I can hear you thinking - oh NO! Will Dawson renounce his poodleness when faced with all these curly haired examples of insanity? Nope. I won't. Because I have learned something extremely important. Mom. Loves. Me. She doesn't care that my hair is straight, or I snuggle instead of pouncing. She calls me Her Very Sweet Boy and when we snuggle - my head is safe from poodle pounces. I will remain myself, the only Fauxpudel in existence, and every one else will have to be jealous of my Mom.
Don't believe me? Go up to the next dog that looks like me and ask the owners "Oh! Is that a Fauxpudel?" If they don't ignore you or walk hurriedly away (you don't run from a mad animal), they will probably take out their cell phone and call the men in the little white coats. Unless it is my Mommie, they will probably say "No. This is a -insert appropriate breed here-. What the heck is a Fauxpudel? Is that a new designer breed?" Go ahead, make my day.
That's right. In the sweet brown eyes of an adoring kid sistah, I am a god. Anything I do, she does. Anything I want, she wants. Anywhere I sleep, she curls up next to me. If I want Mommie, she wants Mommie. If Mommie wants me, she wants Mommie. She thinks my food is better than her food (obviously because I am a God, and we Gods don't eat normal food). In fact, I cannot do anything, think anything, say anything or go anywhere with out my adoring public pouncing on my head. I always thought that once you became a God, you would be living the good life. Instead, I've got to watch my behavior to make sure my worshiper doesn't pick up any bad habits, like stealing my belly rubs, stealing my stuffies, stealing my mommie, stealing my treats, stealing my snuggles....
WAIT A MINUTE! That little rodent has me hoodwinked. She's just using me to get twice the amount of the good stuff. MOMMIE!!! Mommie?! Why on earth are you snuggling with that two timing, lying little red puff of poodle fur! Mommie?