My momma says that everybody and their dog blogs. I wasn't writing a single solitary thing, but I'm correcting that right now. When momma got me she named me The Pink Party Poodle for Peace, now I guess I'm The Pink Party Poodle for Peace Pontificating. My pontification of the day is to tell you that the purpose of life is to have fun, hee, hee, and chase lizards. I love to chase lizards--never catch them though, they taste like rotten toes.

I'm Thinking

I'm Thinking

Friday, August 28, 2015

I found Mom a Puppy

We did it, Mom and I.

We found a pup.

On Tuesday morning, her day off, Momma woke up missing Bear and me, so she checked on the Internet and found a couple of Poodle cross puppies in the Portland vicinity. She called one puppy owner and made an appointment. "I will call you from Wilsonville," Momma said, "That will give you about 40 minutes to meet me." (The owner had agreed to meet close by the airport, as she lived in Vancouver across the Columbia river.

This is beginning to sound like a  drug deal. It isn't though, all legal.

Momma hopped in the car and took off up I-5.

At the Wilsonville exit Momma had the thought--there's a pet store in Wilsonville, and since I'm here I might as well check it out.

Vola'. There was her pup.

Guess who gave her the thought.

A pup. a purse pup, smaller than she had imagined, but perfect. A Mal-Chi. Part Matise,  part Chihauhau.

I knew Mom would love her.

Hi everybody. My name is Sweet Pea, and I have a brother now, a Coon Hound, floppy ears, makes a God-awful braying sound. Is adorable. I love him.

Momma, get a picture!

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

All Dogs Go to Heaven

I’ve been going with momma to look at puppies.

I’m no longer of this world. I crossed over, peacefully in Momma’s arms on the front steps listening to the birds chirping.

It was on July 8 ten days before my tenth birthday. Bear, my Newfoundland roommate passed two weeks before me. He’s cool. I’m cool.

Now I’m encouraging momma to get a puppy.

The trouble is we haven’t found many.

I see dogs all over the place, but then I’m in heaven with Bear, and other dogs momma has loved. You see, you don’t really lose us. We’re here. We watch you. I tell Daddy to get his butt out for a walk with Momma so I can walk down the sidewalk as we used to. (Go to the forest. I love the forest.) I will look out for you.  That’s my job.

For the last nine years I had been treated for Addison’s disease—a condition , not a disease. My adrenals were not operating properly, thus I required medication. My pills (cream cheese made them yummy) kept me going and happy all those years. Hey I traveled with Momma and sister and Bear and Baby Darling on a road trip across eight states. I slept on Hotel beds. Bear and I stayed in a van in the shade while Momma and Sister went to Disneyland. At night I slept with Momma. I flew in an airplane to Hawaii and back. I had a good life.

One neat thing that happened after I passed was that Momma received a card from OSU Veterinary School saying that my Vet had donated to the school in my honor. How cool is that?!

Momma misses me, but I will find the perfect next dog for her. Hey, in might even be me in a new body.

The people in this house and me have discovered a strange phenomenon—I learned that word from Momma—there are few dogs available for adoption. 

Oh there are purebreds with prices of $2,000, or $1500, or $600 even. I wasn’t cheap. It is strange though, that the City Pound, and the shelters have few dogs. (Pit bulls end up there a lot.)

Now I don’t want any dog to be homeless, terrible terrible, people are our pack. We might be one dog to you, but to us you are our whole world. It just appears that people have become control freaks in their effort to control dog population.

It appears that the powers that be have tightened the laws so tight that the only mixed breeds available are designer dogs made so by breeders. They are trying to mix the breeds to strengthen the gene pool. Purebreds have developed some problems—as I did.

I was a great dog, a purebred, a poodle, don’t get me wrong. I loved and was loved. I just had a condition, and for the last year I was stuck daily to give me subcutaneous fluids.

The rules imposed on people wanting to adopt a dog are as stringent as buying a house.  Applications. "How much money are you going to spend on your dog???" Geesch. Whatever it takes. The dog must be neutered, given shots and micro- chipped. (I had to be micro- chipped to go to Hawaii. I didn’t complain. It was wise.)

I’m not a control freak. I’m a happy dog. Happy happy happy.

Lighten up folks.

I will talk more here on this site…


Peaches the Pink Party Poodle for Peace.

Do You Smell What I Smell?

I can’t believe it. The world is my smell feast.

Mom was telling me about dog’s noses. Of course, I know about smelling, and cute dog noses, but she learned some facts. Human’s like facts. We dogs like to smell.

Okay, here’s the story:

One drug-sniffing dog found 35 pounds of marijuana submerged in gasoline within a gas tank. Another dog insisted that there was melanoma on a person’s skin after the doctor said declared the person cancer-free. Guess what a biopsy confirmed. Dog right, doctor wrong.

How do we do it?

While you, dear humans, can smell a teaspoon of sugar in a cup of coffee, we dogs—that’s me—can detect a spoonful of sugar in water the size of two Olympic sized swimming pools.

To put it another way if you delightful, wonderful, but smelling impaired humans can see one third of a mile, we darling stupendous dogs could see three thousand miles. It’s an analogy, we can’t see that far, actually our eye-sight isn’t as good as yours, it’s the smelling I’m talking about.
Researchers, that’s those smart humans who like facts, say that a dog’s smelling ability is 10,000 to 100,000 times better than a human’s. Gosh you poor humans, how do you function in the world? We dogs smell in each nostril independently, and move our heads back and forth to tell which direction the scent is coming from.  And I heard that humans can’t wiggle each nostril independently. Dog’s can.

Mom is surprised that I can’t find a hotel room we left a few minutes earlier. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know she wanted me to find it. I know a bloodhound would have no trouble. He can follow footprints. Now, how many molecules fall off the bottom of a shoe?  And to follow a specific shoe scent when the ground is littered with other smells, what a feat. A bloodhound’s big floppy ears help him, too, they fan odors up into his nose.

When you humans exhale, air goes out the same way it came in. With dogs it goes out the slits in the sides of the nose, and that helps usher in new scent. Also a part of inhaled air is shuttled up into special smelling glands that help us identify molecules, while another portion of the air goes directly into the lungs.
That way we can smell continuously.

No wonder my dear dog friend Gabe fainted when sprayed in the face by a skunk.

Talk about overwhelm.