Kim tells me that today is Buddy’s one year “Gotcha” anniversary. That means we got Buddy a year ago today. The woman that groomed our sweet Betty girl called Kim while we were in NYC last year and told her that one of her other clients had a friend who was trying to rehome a little brown toy poodle and would we be interested. The first stop we made once we were home was to go meet this pup (he was just over a year old at the time). We went to the home of an elderly couple (a term I will need to eliminate from my vocabulary soon since we probably qualify as elderly ourselves at this point) who could not “handle” this frisky pup. We arrived at their front door and were initially surprised at just how little this little chocolate toy poodle was. The pictures we had been sent lacked sufficient scale context to warn us how small a 5.5 pound puppy really was. Betty had been a small dog of 17 scrawny pounds and Cecil had been a solid 23 pounds and we considered both of them quite small. This little guy was an order of magnitude smaller still.
These people, who were perhaps five years our seniors, were in the midst of decorating for Christmas and their home, which seemed pleasant, but more cluttered than we prefer, was extra cluttered with boxes of decorations in the midst of being deployed. This little brown dog was running all around our feet , but we managed to take a seat in the living room to discuss the situation with the couple. The obvious question was the one most vaguely answered: why did they need to rehome this pup? They explained that while they were experienced dog owners (they had had two previous toy poodles) they had had far too much trouble handling this new pup and didn’t know whether it was him or them, but they were simply unable to keep him. They had been given the pup by their daughter on the occasion of the death of their prior dog, and she had supposedly bought them a thoroughbred toy poodle from a breeder in Texas for some $5,000. The man seemed to be more of the pup wrangler in the family where the woman was clearly the family apologist. She explained in the most heartfelt way that the puppy was neither the lap dog she was used to, nor was he particularly kid-friendly. Apparently, their daughter (they same who gifted the pup to them) was unwilling to visit the couple with her children if the dog was still in residence. This implied that the children and the dog did not get along in an extreme enough way that she was prepared to boycott the house during the holidays if they did not rid themselves of this nasty little bugger.
Needless to say, the couple was in more selling mode than that last message indicates, so you can assume that I have embellished that story somewhat, but that was still the basic message that we were given. As the meeting worked its way into the transactional stage, both the woman and Kim were inclined to defer any decision-making until we went away to contemplate. I sensed from the man that there was a deal to be done with greater urgency and given my transact versus shop attitude, I just said, “We’ll take him, why not just take him now?” The man immediately hit the bid and started packing things up while the womenfolk caught up with the new reality. It’s not like either the woman or Kim pushed back on the idea, but I do think I recall the woman saying something akin to, “Oh, my!”
I sensed in the man’s disposition that he wanted rid of the little dog and the sooner the better. It may have been a bandaid pull-off or it may have been a good-riddance conclusion. Either way, the dog was on his way to our house. One unusual thing the woman said on her way to the front door was to plead with us not to hit the pup. We didn’t react other than to say, “Of course not”. When we got in the car with a slightly shivering little dog clinging to Kim’s shoulder and a pile of dog paraphernalia in the back seat, we looked at one another and said to each other, “what was that all about?” We had both picked up on all the same messages except I had tuned into the man’s vibe while Kim was focused on the woman’s vibe. The man projected finality where the woman projected regret and guilt.
The couple told us that the pup’s name was Beau Cartier. His predecessors had been Louis Vuitton and Gucci Poochie. It was not hard to pick up on the household priorities based on those names. During that ride home when the pup uttered not one peep (poodles are nothing if not smart and intuitive about their circumstances), we decided that we would change his name to Buddy. Kim loves the movie Elf with Will Ferrell playing Buddy the Elf. I liked the commonness of the name as a counterbalance to a year of him being called Beau Cartier. Perhaps I should have called him Timex or Swatch, but Buddy had the advantage of being a logical appellation to call something small and cute. Buddy was a mere slip of a lad and he was cute as a button.
We had the groomer over to have him polished up for his new gig. She immediately noticed that Buddy has a rather pronounced overbite, which she says is a disqualifier for him being a thoroughbred show dog. She also sensed that he was perhaps the runt of his litter since he was both a tad feisty and a bit small for his age. This all made me wonder whether this witchy daughter of the couple that supposedly paid top dollar for him and then gave the us or him ultimatum to the couple, had actually paid $5,000 for him. My guess is that he may have been deeply discounted for all his flaws and then was placed in a home where the man was less than tolerant of any imperfections in behavior and may have reacted to puppy aggression with a bit too much forcefulness. Beaten children beat their children.
What I do know is that Buddy is, indeed, less than perfect. He tends to the yappy when people come and go. He clearly has a small dog attitude and wants to be in control of everything in his world. He has lots of energy and wants to play fight all the time. And he really wasn’t meant to be a lap dog. He even occasionally reacts very aggressively over food and being disturbed while sleeping. These all add up to a picture which tells me that Beau Cartier was not meant to be. But in contrast, Buddy suits him and most importantly, he suits us. Kim has tamed whatever wild beast was in him and he now languishes nightly on Kim’s lap on his back having his belly rubbed while he lolls his head to either side in complete bliss. He is more indifferent to food than not, but seems to like the fact that real meat has replaced kibble in his diet. As for the play fighting, Buddy and I go at it all day long. He is my buddy and I am his. He wants to go everywhere with me but if Kim leaves, he pines for her return. He gets along fine with other dogs at day care, but has little need for dog companionship otherwise. He likes his new home and has all his favorite spots designated at the highest ground he can find (usually seat and sofa tops).
Buddy is now 7 pounds and a very happy young dog. He still yaps too much and likes to get a bit playful and evasive when its time to get his leash on him, but he is just so damn cute that none of those things bother us at all. We feel so happy to have Buddy and are forever howling, “Buddy!!!” When we are heading to pick him up at daycare after some night or few days away from him. He has his quirks and he can get underfoot at times, but we cannot imagine life in this hilltop house without out little bundle of unconditional love.