Animal Magnetism

Don’t Judge a Dog by Its Appearance

Once we moved into the “pink palace” in Florida, Mother made good on her promise of a cat and a dog. As it turned out, the dog was never to be mine, but the cat was.

We visited the SPCA. I’d never been to one. The visit upset me, all those sad eyes, all those abandoned animals. Mother swore she’d never take me back, but I did adopt a white kitten with a few black spots and named her Skippy.

The dog, however, had to be well bred. Where did Mom get this bee in her bonnet? I wanted a foxhound. Forget that. Her comeback was that at seventy pounds, a foxhound is too big. Not as a big as a Great Dane, I’d reply to no avail. She read up on the different breeds and found a breeder of miniature poodles. The word “miniature” is misleading because they are the size of a Schnauzer (a fabulous dog). Dad traded in the Chrysler for a Plymouth whose tail fins made me think of the fish I’d been watching so closely. Mother borrowed the car, driving along at her usual blistering pace. The breeder in the northwest section of town kept a tidy place. Mother picked out a black male puppy without consulting me. Well, that was okay. Mom had an eye for conformation with dogs, but I actually think that even then, mine was better. She did pick the best pup in the litter, handed over a lot of money (a couple of good days at the track). Home we drove with the puppy in my lap.

Sunshine turned into the light of Mom’s life. The training fell to me. At first I was mortified to be seen with a poodle. Thank God she never gave the dog a show cut. I would have put a paper bag over my head. Then I read about poodles, discovering that they were hunting dogs. Maybe he wouldn’t be but so bad.

Smart, clean, eager to please, and what an easy fellow to work with. I did like him, but he was clearly Mother’s dog. He liked me, too, but dogs are like people. There is special chemistry, and those two loved each other. He’d escort her on all her walks. He’d shoot into the car to ride shotgun. She couldn’t take him to the tracks, as dogs were forbidden. He didn’t attend church services. But other than that, they were inseparable.

Her lifelong love affair with poodles began with Sunshine. She bought herself dresses with poodles on them, poodle purses, poodle costume jewelry. At least she didn’t buy glasses with poodle appliqués.

By now Aunt Mimi and her family had also turned their backs on the ancestral breeding grounds to move to Florida. The two sisters couldn’t function without each other. Butch, the legendary Boston Bull, had passed away. Aunt Mimi, needing to be different, wouldn’t have a poodle. Instead, she bought a Pekinese.

Dear God, now everything was Chinese. Chin, the indulged Pekinese, inspired my aunt to shop for clothing and jewelry in the same way that Sunshine inspired Mother. Our fear was Aunt Mimi would go all the way and we’d sit down to supper at her house only to be handed chopsticks.

The effect these dogs had on the ever-competing sisters was not lost on their husbands. Uncle Merle and Dad learned before I came into this world that if you make a woman happy, she makes you happy. Uncle Merle found Aunt Mimi a gorgeous Chinese silk dress, the kind with a high collar. As her figure was lovely, before we knew it, Aunt Mimi’s wardrobe rivaled Mrs. Chiang Kai-shek’s.

Mother fumed. One could find only so many poodle dresses and sweaters. She had a small black poodle painted on the driver’s door of the car, embellished with her initials, J.E.B., underneath. Her straw hat, a real Montecristo, was set off by a red hatband with black poodles embroidered thereon.

I was finding out that animals can affect people in ways I never considered. And I sure learned the value of keeping a woman happy. Pay attention to her and do what she says. How exhausting that seemed to me. But back then I didn’t fathom the payoff. That occurred to me later. How smart Dad and Uncle Merle were! And how spoiled were Chin and Sunshine, along with Aunt Mimi and Mother.

Mother always said, “If you love someone you’ve got to spoil them a little.”

This quip usually was pronounced when I was performing a hateful chore like washing the jalousie windows.

“When do I get spoiled?”

She’d take a drag. “When you find the right man. I’m not going to spoil you. Bad for your moral fiber.”

Florida was turning into a different kind of education. I also learned to eat egg rolls and wonton soup and never, never to criticize the beloved Chin or Sunshine.

While awash in Mother’s poodle paraphernalia at home, Sunshine taught me that preferences are preferences and not to judge a book by its cover. He was a real dog and he could hunt.