"The Pocket Rocket"
When Heather was almost 5, we bred her to a local pointed male, one whose lines we thought would complement hers, giving us the Perfect Puppies. However, through nobody's fault except the Breeding Gods, it turned into the nightmare litter no breeder ever wants to have. We kept a gorgeous black bitch, but "Dusty" died at the age of 2/12 years of Juvenile Renal Disease, leaving us with one middle-aged, spayed Heather and no real heart to look again.
However, Heather was used to being around other poodles, so we eventually decided to try again to find a pup or young dog to keep us company and cheer up the old girl. We told our friends that we were once again looking for a companion. After a couple of months, a friend called us with the news that a litter with breeding we liked was on the ground. At the appropriate time, we drove 8 hours to see this Wonder Litter. We chose a big white female from the litter, but in the course of the next year and a half, it became obvious that "Timber" was mentally ill. We had to put her to sleep before she turned two. Then Heather bloated and almost died. She was very slow recovering; for a while we thought she wasn't going to make it.
After a lifetime with dogs and half a lifetime with standard poodles, I was looking at the prospect of not having *any* dogs, much less standards! All around us, it seemed, were nothing but poodles with horrible skin problems, massive allergies, life-threatening inherited conditions. We seriously considered getting a mutt, or another breed.
My best friend Marilynn came to the rescue. Her standard, Pandora, was due to turn two and also to come into season. She had been holding off spaying/breeding her to see how she matured, and thought now might be a good time to breed her. She had her hips and eyes checked and ran blood tests to determine her overall health. Everything came out clean, so she contacted the breeder to consult about the best available male for her. We researched the studbooks, gleaned every scrap of information regarding appropriate bloodlines, and spent many hours on the phone with owners of possible males. Finally we settled on a closely linebred relative, deciding to breed back to that dog's sire on the theory that since he had produced this wonderful dog, he could do it again with Pandora. Linebred black to black, that was our plan.
Then we saw Bogie. We didn't even like brown dogs! He was handily winning his class when we first met him, and went back to take his Group. He positively sparkled! Tossing his dark brown topknot back, he pranced and acted quite the show dog, but you could tell that this was an intelligent dog who was having fun with his people too. After all the show excitement, we went back to the crates to introduce ourselves and to meet this extraordinary young dog.
The owner and breeder were very friendly and gracious, even letting us explore his body under all that massive coat once he had been been released from all his bands and spray. Just as I had suspected, he had a lovely sound body, but what intrigued me even more was the way he related to people. He was a bit reserved with us strangers at first, but when his owner made it clear we were friends, he unbent and became playful. Brown poodles I had met before this had not had nearly his good sense, humor and poise. His personality shone out of his eyes and expressed itself in every line of his body when he got off the table to romp with his owner. The more I saw him, the more I became convinced that Pandora should be bred to him, not our carefully planned male.
Marilynn liked him as much as I did, but was horrified at the idea of breeding to a brown dog. She thought at best we would get muddy blacks, or ugly brown dogs. It would be a total outcross, too. The dogs had few ancestors in common; such a breeding just isn't done much anymore by serious breeders.
After an uphill argument with just about everyone, I got my way! Pandora would be a test breeding for Bogie. We traveled to his home in another state for the event. It was a spectacular drive over some of the best views of the Rockies we had ever seen, with elk, bald eagles, a bear and several deer roaming the roadsides as if the interstates did not exist. At his home, Bogie proved quite the gentleman, courting our nervous young bitch like a veteran.
Two months later, 6 puppies plopped into Pandora's bed. They were black and, in our biased opinion, the most beautiful puppies ever whelped. I was drawn to a big bossy bitch from the beginning, but my partner was most taken by a smaller, quieter young lady. We discussed it back and forth over groomings, baths, and lead training, and eventually we decided to take her choice -- not that we had much of a choice! The little lady would cry for her when she saw her and slept soundly in her arms right from the start.
At home we tried on many names, finally settling on one that reflected our hopes and fears. "Quimera" is a Spanish word meaning both "chimera," (a myth), and "a wild or foolish fantasy." Would we finally get the puppy we wanted or would something else happen? Were we foolish to keep trying with poodles?
Rocket is nine months old now. She is growing up to be a goodsized handsome dog. Her personality is so friendly and sensible! She is already showing promise as a retriever and obedience dog, but loves to go hiking with us on the New Mexican "Serengeti." She started when she was only 12 weeks old, when her vaccinations were mostly complete. With her sister and brother who were still at Marilynn's home, she climbed huge (2 foot) rocks to claim possession of the whole mesa. She discovered how to flop in pools of spring water to get the most splash for the leap, and to run from bush to bush to stay in the cool shade. She even accepts the feral horses on the mesa as part of her normal vista -- she won't chase them, though she has walked over to them to say hi very cautiously. In the city, she learned to put up with fussing over her hairdo so she could wow the crowds on the Plaza, and be invited into all the nicest places. She still adores my partner, sleeping on her feet to keep them warm during our chilly New Mexico fall and winter evenings.
We worry over her slightest cough or sniffle or "off her feed" day. Her bloodwork says she is perfectly healthy, though, so maybe now we have the dog we've wanted for so long. Heather even accepts her now. The grandchildren love her and she loves them too -- unlike Heather, Rocket is very careful not to step on them or knock them over. She may just be our best friend too!