The Search

Seems like just yesterday when my partner begged me to start looking for a dog. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, I just wasn't quite ready for the responsibility involved in having a dog. The early morning walking, the early evening walking and the late night walking, specifically. After awhile of hemming and hawing, I came to realize that in the real world of responsibility walking a dog is a tiny grain of salt in a vast open sea. So what were we going to get? Pugs were the first choice. But then we found that we needed a hypo-allergenic situation (like the Obama family) and that involved a poodle in some capacity.






Growing up I had a tiny white poodle named Buttons. He was mean but I had a strange attachment to him. He wasn't snuggly or spritely, just sort of a small watchdog of sorts. For whatever reason, this 5 lb dog made me feel safe so he was ok in my book. Ever since Buttons, I've always had a strange penchant for tiny poodles. The teenier and more poodley, the better. So the search was on for a poodle-something. We saw an ad from a breeder out in Norco that had all kinds of poodle mixes (see above) at extremely reasonable prices.


So we made the trek out through Riverside to her home which was in fact a cross between the set of Hee-Haw and the Munsters. All sorts of barnyard activity going on inside and out. Pigs, snakes, wolves, rats, galore. And then there were the poodles. All shapes and sizes. Even something called a party poodle, two words I would never have thought would sit side by side; a black and white long-haired poodle originally bred in the wild (I think) . Then, Deanna (the breeder) brought over what appeared to be a baby ferret. It was jet black, rail thin and real scary. She put it on Vic's shoulder and it crawled up along her neck and wrapped itself around her. Vic was in love. I was in disbelief. Turns out it wasn't a ferret at all, but an 8 week old doxie-poo, a dachshund-poodle mix and Vic HAD to have her. I was at the other end of the room conversing with a 7 year old boy who had a tooth sprouting from his upper lip. He had introduced me to lovely apricot poodle that I was immersing myself with in hopes of avoiding the discussion I knew was about to ensue regarding the purchase of the ferret, uh, I mean doxie-poo.


Well, luck seemd to be on my side that day (or so it seemed) because the little doxie-poo was too young to be adopted. But in just 4 weeks she would be ready to pack her little doxie bag and be on her way. With that said, we were on our way. Back in the car and on the freeway, Vic going on and on about how she MUST have the dog and that we HAD to make the drive back in 4 weeks.


Within the course of the next 23 days we looked high and low for another poode mix. Upon each outing I prayed that we'd find SOMETHING that Vic could attach herself to other than the ferret. We sat on the floor of countless breeder's homes, pet stores and shelters trying to see if Vic would bond with SOMETHING else. Such was not the case. We we're back in the car headed to Norco.


With another 4 weeks into the aging process, the little thing was actually starting to take shape and resemble that of a real canine (all 1.5 lbs of her). Within minutes Vic was signing the paperwork, writing a check and we were on a beeline to Petco where we purchased the pup every essential she could ever need and more.
By the time we brought her home is was late. We set her up in her little crate with a blanket and a water bottle and started brainstorming for a name for her. Molly? Darla? Sadie? Sadie! Sadie it was.

Sadie and her monkey, below.