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 ...
