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Our Journey with Poodles
My husband Jake and I had always dreamed of getting a dog one day. Shortly after getting married, we decided the time was finally right to adopt our first furry friend. We were ready to open our home and hearts to a four-legged companion. Though we remained open-minded about breeds, I had always imagined us with an intelligent, loving poodle by our sides. Those funny curly coats and lively personalities called to me.
We spent months preparing—puppy-proofing our house, buying supplies, researching training techniques. When we felt ready, we started visiting our local animal shelters and meeting sweet pups longing for families. It was at our city’s overcrowded municipal shelter that a fluffy black pup caught my eye. Peering out from inside her kennel, she watched everyone who passed by with soft brown eyes brimming with curiosity and hope. When I stopped to say hello, her tail began thumping in a rhythm of joy. I was smitten immediately.
“Jake, come meet this cutie!” I called to my husband across the room. He joined me at her cage where she greeted him with a play bow, front legs splayed, rump in the air, begging for attention. We both broke out into grins—how could we resist this friendly girl? After chatting with shelter staff, we learned she was a one-year-old standard poodle surrendered by a family forced to move overseas. Though she seemed a bit shy and uneasy with all the shelter commotion, the staffers assured us she was very sweet and would thrive in a stable home.
We took her into a visiting room to get better acquainted, and that sealed our decision—this girl had a poodle personality in spades. Within minutes she was lavishing us with snuggles and sloppy kisses, rolling onto her back for tummy rubs, her earlier hesitation vanishing. When we pulled out tennis balls and squeaky toys, her true colors shone. She darted about with youthful glee, inviting us to join her playtime. This bubbly pup aimed to please, responding quickly whenever we asked her to sit or lie down. Though we noticed she appeared anxious if a shelter dog barked loudly nearby, we could tell she craved affection. My husband and I were in consensus—this sensitive soul needed patience, gentle guidance and lots of love. We would be honored to provide her all that and more; she was meant to join our little family. We decided then and there to name her Maggie May.
After finalizing adoption paperwork, we brought Miss Maggie home, ready to start our lives together. The shy pup we first met initially resurfaced—she would flatten herself along the floor if we moved too quickly near her. Loud noises or strangers also sent her scurrying under the couch. But day by day, armed with treats, cuddles and playtime bonding moments, Maggie gained confidence. Gradually her true self emerged—an affectionate, high-spirited poodle full of laughs and love.
Her intelligence constantly impressed us. She soaked up basic obedience and manners training like a sponge. We had tremendous fun teaching her silly tricks and commands as her abilities grew. Her quirky personality kept us smiling every day—the way she’d “talk back” to us with emotive grunts and sighs. The spring in her step venturing out into the yard, nose twitching, joyful to explore. Her sheer exuberance chased balls for hours, flopping down contentedly afterward with the drowsy satisfaction of a happy poodle.
Maggie was also wonderfully nurturing by nature. When I was home with a nasty flu, she scarcely left my side for three days straight, as if promising to nurse me back to health. She’d nuzzle under my arm so I could stroke her soft curls, gazes locked together in quiet understanding only a loving pup can share. My normally energetic girl was perfectly happy to simply sit sentry, providing comforting companionship.
In reverse, caring for Maggie soon became one of our greatest delights. We quickly discovered the extensive grooming needs underlying that cute poodle coat! Initially, we splurged at the dog spa once monthly for bathing, clipping and fluffing until she looked like a plush toy. In between, we brushed her chocolate-brown curls daily—a relaxing ritual for all three of us. Eventually, I invested in proper equipment and learned to clip and style her coat myself at home. Maggie didn’t care how amateurish my scissors skills might be; she luxuriated happily as I pampered her, looking up at me with absolute trust and contentment.
Season after season, our precious Maggie wove herself into the fabric of our daily lives. Lazy summer afternoons swimming at the lake together. Romping through autumn leaves on crisp fall hikes. Sledding downhill with delighted yips on our winter outings. Spring cleaning was always more fun with Maggie “helping” by playfully pouncing on the vacuum cleaner and stealing discarded items like socks. On Friday nights, Maggie would hop onto the couch as an honorary member of our family movie nights, often falling asleep curled against us by the final credits.
And speaking of family...three years after adopting Maggie, Jake and I welcomed our baby twins, Lily and Ryan. We fretted over how Maggie might handle these tiny, loud humans suddenly invading her space. But our trusty poodle rose to the challenge like a champ! From first meeting the twins, her trademark motherly instincts kicked right in. She diligently watched guard while the babies napped, whimpering alerts if they fussed. As they grew into rambunctious toddlers, Maggie patiently allowed tail yanks and ear tugs. She gladly played the role of the jungle gym, giving horsey rides and accepting sticky-fingered face kisses as her due. The kids adored their Maggie Moo; she completed our family.
As the years flew faster than any of us wished, we made countless treasured memories with our faithful black poodle. So when Maggie grew gray-flecked in the face, slowed in her gait, and napped more hours than played, we repaid her steadfast devotion in kind. Daily massages eased her stiff joints. Switching to senior kibble proved tricky with her picky palate, but was essential for nutrition. More frequent walks prevented painful bladder troubles. And when shaped-cloud cataracts dimmed her once bright gaze, we became her eyes, guiding her around furniture and alerting her to stairs.
During Maggie’s final days, we set up a cozy dog bed in the living room so she could be near us always. Though her body grew frail, her spirit stayed vibrant—she still thumped her tail hearing our voices. We took turns hand-feeding her favorite foods, brushing her woolly coat, and whispering how much we cherished our Goofy Girl. When her legs finally failed, lifting that once-energetic body pierced our hearts. Yet we focused all our attention on keeping her comfortable, swaddling her in love.
As we said tearful goodbyes, Maggie gazed up with such trust and loyalty, we felt humbled by this innocent soul who had brought us such joy. Though parting shattered our world, we found solace in the certainty we would reunite with our Maggie one day at Rainbow Bridge. Until then, her spirited memory would live on forever in our hearts and homes. We were truly blessed by this special girl who embodied unwavering love.
Two months later, still grieving our loss, Jake and I found ourselves wandering the shelter halls once again. Though nobody could replace our Maggie, perhaps we could offer another homeless pup a second chance? In a kennel adorned with colorful pawprint drawings, we discovered Max—a fluffy apricot ball of energy bounding over to smother us in sloppy welcome kisses. My sorrow lifted instantly seeing that happy poodle smile again. Jake’s lingering grief also dissipated as Max insisted on playing an enthusiastic game of tug-of-war with Jake’s shoelaces.
We soon learned Max was surrendered by an elderly gentleman forced into a nursing home. Though initially rambunctious, this eighteen-month-old male poodle quickly settled into our household routine, aiming to please his new family. Like our Maggie, Max became an affectionate, loyal member of our little pack.
Now when I gaze out my kitchen window at Max leaping to catch a frisbee with the kids giggling themselves silly, I picture our Maggie cheering them on. And each night as Max snuggles into bed with his head on my pillow, softly snoring in my ear, I sense Maggie’s spirit curled up beside us, paws paddling contentedly in her sleep.
Jake and I remain poodle devotees for life now, thanks to our beloved Maggie. By some strange twist of fate, we found not one but two incredible poodles to walk this earthly path beside us. Come what may in future years, we will be there for our Max, hands entwined in those apricot curls, guiding each other lovingly through joy and sorrow. Because that is what you do for your family.
For anyone considering what type of dog to adopt, I cannot recommend poodles highly enough. Their intelligence keeps them engaged in training; their affectionate loyalty bonds them to you in ways that defy words. Whether you seek adventure, laughter or comfort through life’s storms...let a poodle into your world and into your heart. You won’t regret it. Simply make room on your couch for all that fluffy love!
Thanks for listening to Quiet Please. Remember to like and share wherever you get your podcasts.
