I never thought that I would ever own a dog.
Growing up, I had hamsters that ate each other and attempted suicide by crawling into my mother’s handbag and only crawling out when we reached the Forum Galleria carpark along Orchard Road. I also had sea monkeys, but imagine my dismay when I found out they were shrimp. Shrimp!
In my teen years, I tried to convince myself that I was, instead, really a cat person. I related to them, especially their greedy and sleepy ways. I could never really cosy up to one but I always thought that it was in their nature to be aloof and selectively affectionate. I secretly found them, well, unapproachable.
My husband, on the other hand, has always had a dog at some point in his life. The German Shepherd he grew up with as a toddler, the beloved Maltese whom he had to give up when he entered NS, and his brother’s poor little Chihuahua who was sadly neglected by her rightful owner and eventually ran away. When we finally shacked up together after tying the knot, having his own dog was definitely on HH’s mind.
Last year, I went through a rough patch of extreme restlessness, both on the personal and professional front, and badly needed to settle down. Now I don’t encourage the purchase of a pet or even the conception of a child as any form of marriage first aid, but we decided that we were ready for a third, furry addition to the family. We trawled pet shops (at which puppies are grossly overpriced) and made arrangements to visit kennels, yet remained non-committal.
Finally, I stumbled upon a listing on OLX for red toy poodle puppies on sale by a home breeder. I’ve always had a soft spot for red toy poodles – they look like velvet teddy bears and poodles are so famed for their sharp intelligence. When I found out that they don’t shed and hence wouldn’t aggravate my skin allergies, that pretty much sealed the deal for me. With just a few phone calls, we were at the home breeder’s residence, checking out her litter of red toy poodles.
We were advised by Jacq, our colleague and dog trainer extraordinaire, to pick a female poodle. Male poodles are known to be overly aggressive, even recalcitrant. There was only one female in the litter but she was so fragile and very needy. She whined endlessly and refused to be put down. Her brother was crazily affectionate, pouncing all over HH’s face and his bout of playfulness was followed by a zen-like lull, during which he just snoozed in his box while needy sis whined all over him. It’s true when they say it’s the puppy that picks you and not the other way round.
We took Rusty home on December 27, 2010. It was the end of a tumultuous year and the start of something wonderful. And you know what? It still is.
