Why does it bother me to have two adorable, woolly dogs? Well, I guess we are big people and used to big dogs. We've had two Irish Wolfhounds, Rufus and Fionnulla, a Newfoundland/Irish Setter mix called Finnegan and we are on our second Great Dane, Maggie. The first, Lily, died of bloat when she was eight, a number of years ago.
Interestingly, we lost a Bichon Frise called Jake to a brain tumour shortly before Lily died. He'd been a jolly, forthright dog who lived to be fifteen but he'd originally been our youngest , our fourth daughter's dog. She did the research. Jake was her decision and since he was to be her companion instead of a babysitter, (she was eleven), we consented. He was special, but he would never have been our choice.
I look for nobility, stature, grace and power in a dog and Toy Poodles, (or Bichon Frises) just don't cut it. In fact, the image of a lap dog, bred to be coddled and carried, is slightly off-putting to me, in the way that "cute" can be construed as corny. I grew up with lbig Highland Collies so I'm used to some magnificence, some usefulness in a dog, (not that our Collies herded sheep or anything but they did have the freedom of a farm.) For coziness and weight on my lap, I've always had responsive cats who have had the elegance and retro-wildness you only occasionally see in dogs.
So why do I have two little dogs, "Rasta" dogs because I rarely groom them, who are cute as can be: all cuddle and curls, practically grafted to me?
When Lily died we were devastated and we mourned for months. I built a sort-of shrine with her blown-up photograph and a Chinese vase full of her ashes. But I felt a huge hole, a dog-hole, that can only be filled with the kind of companionship a dog gives: constant, devoted, humorous, accomodating, attached. But what kind of dog? I wasn't ready for another Great Dane and we now prefer the breed to Irish Wolfhounds. Though Jake was jovial and bold, in fifteen years he had never really been housebroken. We have the stained carpets to prove it. (Other Bichon owners told us they had the same problem.)
I wanted something small and easy. At the time we had houses in Canada and the U.S. and I was doing a lot of commuting. It was a ten hour drive. I needed a transportable dog. Plus I was alone a lot, as my husband was usually in the U.S. I longed for a doting, connected canine.
In Canada, I had a friend with an appealing Lhasa-Poo, (or Shi-Poo?) called Gucci and I thought something like him would be perfect. But when we went to the breeder she only had Cockapoos and two Toy Poodles. The Cockapoos were sweet, all caramel and chocolate but they were larger than I wanted. So I eyeballed the Poodles, feeling quite resistant. In any case, I only wanted one. A female.
Picture these wiggly wee creatures, not with the supple delicacy of a kitten but with a furry vulnerability that begged me to cradle and nuzzle them. Which I did and they nuzzled right back. Since there were only two, I didn't see how I could separate them, leave the little silver male on his own, so I took them both. And I kept this secret from my husband since I knew he'd protest. (This was November. I finally told him near Christmas.) And he did protest but he succumbed, as I had.
I spent that winter alone in the big Canadian house with the two puppies, painting it from top to bottom to get ready to sell in the spring. The puppies bounced and they tussled, they slept and they ate. They lept gamely in the deep snow. And they never left my side.
Yes, they are a cliche, especially when they're drastically groomed. They don't have the dedication of guide dogs, the reliability of therapy dogs, the industriousness of explosive-detectors. They are vocal. They are actually serious dogs; they don't have a Bichon's sense of humour, the breed's circus-like extroversion.
But mine are alert and smart. Gracie is as gracious as her name, placid and patient. Hutchie is hyper, neurotic, needy, (that's for another time). But his loyalty is tenacious. They never beg for food. They trot loosely on the leash, keeping pace for three miles. At the dog park, the two of them chase and return the ball with the speed of a whippet. They have no off-button. And at night, they are two lumps of warmth tight against me.
They're faithful lambs with corkscrew curls, shaggy "muppet" paws, powderpuff ears, fuzzy muzzles, eyes like black marbles, licorice noses and little smiley-curves of lip beneath their beards. They're irresistible.
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