It's no secret to my family and friends or to the readers of this blog and folks on Facebook that I love my pesky, high-pitched barking, high-energy canine pal, Poppet. She brings me joy and laughter and companionship. (She also gives me headaches, not to mention probably making me deaf, but that's another story.)
Poppet's registered name is Ma Poupette des Bois (My Small Doll of the Woods). Actually, Poppet (an English word of endearment as heard in Mrs. Doubtfire and Pirates of the Caribbean, derived from the French poupette) isn't as small as most of her breed. She's an inch too tall to be allowed to show. But since I didn't want a show dog but a pet, that doesn't mean anything to me. And a wonderful pet she is, despite her less enjoyable traits. Today I have a couple of Poppet stories to share.
I buy Poppet's medications and greenies from 1-800-PetMeds. Every time they send me an order, they drop in a large dog biscuit. Since all of my orders are for a dog under 10 pounds, I'm not sure why they give me a biscuit that looks like it could weigh 10 pounds itself but they do. Poppet never eats the large biscuit (sometimes she doesn't eat the small ones that we get at drive-through banks and Moxie Javas either; she prefers more expensive treats). She'll just carry the big biscuit around the house until eventually I toss it in the trash.
Well, the other day I got a new order of her heartworm prescription, and there was another big biscuit. I gave it to her, then went outside to water the new grass I'm pampering around my back patio. Poppet came with me. The next thing I know, I looked up to discover her pushing dirt over the dog biscuit that she'd just buried.
I laughed so hard. Poppet has never been a digger. Thus her instinct to bury that large dog biscuit took me by surprise. I tried to explain to her that the biscuit would disintegrate but she didn't seem to care. Do you suppose it will sprout a dog bone plant later this summer?
Next story: Awhile back, Poppet got her right rear leg tangled up in her doggie seatbelt (yes, I put her in a seatbelt; I don't want her hurt by a sudden stop). Anyway, a time or two since then, she's acted as if that same leg bothers her. It never lasts more than a few minutes, but it's made me watchful. Papillons are known for their fragile bones.
So last week, I got up in the morning and carried Poppet with me out of the bedroom to turn off the alarm. I've always carried her so that she doesn't run down the hall and wake Mom up. Now she expects me to carry her! After turning off the alarm, I walked to the back door, opened it, and set her down. "Go do your business," I said, just like every morning.
But Poppet didn't jump to obey. She couldn't. She was limping. Her right rear leg was held up and she couldn't go down the one big step to the patio. Gasp! Was she hurt that badly? Visions of surgery and thousands of dollars flashed through my head. I bent down to pick her up again.
If you've ever seen this breed, you know that they have beautiful long flowing tails. Well, it turned out nothing was wrong with Poppet's leg. Instead, her tail had a knot in it and was acting like a sling, holding her leg off the ground. LOL!
Gotta love my life with Poppet. Never a dull moment.
PS Click on photos to see large versions