Ramblings of A Labradoodle Owner

            Luckily we never missed a night’s sleep as Max slept through the night as long as we let him sleep on our bed. Max hates crates. So does Dave. I lost the battle of crate training as Max can howl better than a hound and Dave cannot tolerate more than one minute of Max’s heartbreaking cries and howling. I give in as I just want to sleep. Max immediately becomes my shadow. He’s sticks to me like glue not venturing out of any room unless he is close by me. Wow, I think this is so adorable. Well it is till you learn you don’t pee alone, bathe alone, actually you will never be alone again. The breeder was right, black dogs don’t show dirt. However, she failed to mention you cannot see a black dog at nighttime. So about once a week I fall over Max in my bedroom while trying to either get ready for bed or get up at 5am for work. Oh, you also don’t know if your black dog has pooped or peed as Max is the same color as night—Black. I mention to Dave that I would like a pair of night vision goggles.

Feeding Max is challenging as puppies at one point decide not to take interest in their food at one point or another. So how do you get them to really want their dry dog food? You sit on the floor, pick up their food bowl and act like you are eating the yummiest food around in town making noises while pushing your puppy away. Works like a dream and luckily none of your friends or family sees you doing this.

Bathing Max is too easy as he loves water, possibly maybe too much? Max has learned to get a running start and try to slide and jump in the bathtub with me. So I end up standing up every 3 minutes thwarting his tactical maneuvers. I learn to take real quick baths. And I failed to mention my bedroom is also approx 700sq ft and the master bathroom has no door. This makes for a good running start for Max to try to sail into my bathtub with me .Although I must say after two weeks, Max learned to lie down on the floor and wait for me to bath quickly. Okay, I’ll admit I used treats to convince him to lie down.

Max also loves showers. However, he did once lie down while I was shampooing him and it took considerable convincing to get him to stand back up to rinse the shampoo. To this day I have never seen a dog almost go to sleep while bathing him. Now blow dryers are another story. Max feels that he needs to protect himself and the family from this deadly predator—my blow dryer. Barking didn’t work nor did running and coming back to jump at it. Lastly, Max quickly learned that licking a hot blower dryer is not fun either. So, Mom lost, Max won…no blow dryers for Max. Just towel dry him and then go sit on our bedroom terrace letting him air dry naturally works best. Yet I do not understand how I can blow dry my hair with Max lying at my feet peacefully ignoring a blow dryer. Maybe since I am the leader of the pack he feels I have control over it?

Max is a born retriever. Throw something he brings it back each and every time. No one said though he would want to do this about 300 times a day starting the moment you opened your eyelids till you went to sleep. My teenage boys are ecstatic! They can now play fetch for about 10 minutes that is and I get to take over again. However, I must say trying to watch a movie while throwing a toy does develop one’s multitasking abilities, both mentally and physically.

Labradoodles I believe must have the best hearing of all breeds of dogs. Why do I say this? Remember, Max is my shadow. Dave can get up for work, get ready, come in and out of the room, put on lights if necessary, and brush his teeth and so on. Does Max move even an inch? NOPE. Let me move my eyes and POP my eyelids open, and Max is on full alert raring to start his day.

Now comes potty time. I try to race off first to the bathroom then stumble down the stairs , try to think of coffee while two adorable doodle eyes are pleading to go out, grab a coat instead of my coffee mug, put Dave’s boots on the wrong feet ( it stabilizes me so I don’t trip while shuffling outside) and take Max out. I stand out in the cold air seeing my breath wishing it were steam from a cup of hot coffee, going,” Come on Max go potty. YES good boy, oh what a good boy”.  We then trudge, rather he runs I stumble up the stairs blindly being led by a hyper, wide awake dog back to the front door. Once inside I think, “ohhhh hot coffee, yes please”. I am now being dodged by a dog with a toy in his mouth, doing figure 8’s around my legs while grabbing onto anything to hold me upright while strategizing my way to the coffee pot in the kitchen. Ten minutes later after throwing his toy about 10 times, I arrive at the coffee pot with my shadow in tow, Max. I pour a ½ cup as I like to sip small amounts so it stays hot while making my way to the dining room table.  I sit down with a hot steaming cup of coffee just about to sip it. Oomph— Max brings his toy and ½ his body onto my lap. Great, now my coffee is dribbling down my chin and shirt. Okay so I love this dog and put my cup of coffee down, laughing and rubbing his head. He proceeds to drop his toy and slowly slip off my lap like a sloth to get it. Here’s me my chance to have coffee. Oh wait, it’s now lukewarm. I get up; repeat the process of obtaining another hot coffee again not realizing Max will start his lap toy game all over again. I give in saying I can wait a bit for coffee as he needs attention. That is love—waiting to have your morning coffee as for years that was the first procedure of the day, sipping hot coffee before being full awake/

I try crate training while no one is home since Dave and my teenage boys are far from impervious to howling cries. Guess what?  I soon come to the conclusion I can’t either, out Max comes from his crate. Max 2 points, Mom zero.

Sweeping the floor has become a real task as Max the protector will save me from the man/dog eating enemy. Barking, dodging, finally stepping on the broom stops it from sweeping. Super Max saves the day and mom puts away the broom. Vacuums are the worst enemy around town. I finally try to explain to Max that NO means the vacuum cleaner is friendly and OUT means OUT and now.

After several weeks, Max learns a vacuum is my friend but still needs careful watching at it can eat up things on the floor. The broom is still not an acceptable visitor yet, Max needs more convincing on that one as it pushes things around and takes his toys away at times which is not good in any dog’s eyes and/or reasoning (that is if they reason at all). Time is on my side. Besides, having Max to love is more important now than having the cleanest floors in town.

The contents of this blog site are copyright (c) 2007, Annmarie Sparks. All Rights Reserved.       

For at least 5 years I told my teenagers,” NO MORE dogs! And I MEAN IT!” Besides, I was a Mom who stood by her word, walked tall and proud known for using my infamous expression when I’ve had enough, “End of subject!” There I really was the Head of Household as that is the box I check on my tax forms. The only dog I ever was going to have was a Labradoodle ever since reading and seeing a picture of one. They were gorgeous, good for people that have allergies, their eyes so expressive, and they were being used as service dogs. Intelligence was stated as being high, temperament as loving, and the list of desirable traits continuous. Sounds too good to be true? Almost, as the average price was anywhere from $1500 to $2000. Ok, reality check happens when sticker shock is before your eyes. NO Labradoodle for this family as I could not afford it. Whew, I was safe and could stay a Mom that does not go back on her word…NO more dogs! 

My teenagers barely remember that I used to foster stray and rescue dogs (and cats) in in the past, starting when I was only 9 years old. I had my fill of dogs and wanted a break in life. Why not, what’s wrong with that? Actually nothing until you have a fiancé and 3 teenagers working on you day in day out, year round. Being a person with a reasonable amount of common sense and humor, I would ask them.” Which letter of the word NO don’t you understand? The N or the O?” and laugh while walking away.   

Warning: when out at country diner do NOT read the newspaper NOR let your significant other read pet ads. It can make you eat your words. Do NOT agree to make a simple call to pacify a dog wanter’s request. NOR say the words,” We’ll just look so you can get this out of your system. And we are NOT taking home a dog “. When at a breeder’s do NOT pick up a puppy! There should be a warning label on a breeder’s door in red lettering stating: WARNING: ONCE you enter you will lose all sense of logic and reality. You will feel lightheaded, giddy, smile wide and may even start to use baby talk. Statistics show 3 out of 4 people cannot resist puppy eyes, breath, bodies and their other cute ways. There is no known cure but to take home a puppy.  

Did I listen to the warning bells going off in my head like the Robot in Lost in Space going “DANGER DANGER?” NO! Besides, my breeder failed to have a warning sign up over her door. So now without realizing it, I was entering at my own risk, falling in love wearing rosy colored glasses while trying to stay strong. When the breeder was out of hearing distance I do remember whispering to Dave, “These puppies are huge. And I don’t want that black one. He’s too old, she said he’s 13 weeks old! He looks like more like a Labrador Retriever. ” That said I smugly thought I was safe and hey I’ll play along letting Dave get his fill thinking he’d agree with me and go home within 20 minutes. 

Wrong! Dave and the breeder knew what they were doing and my blonde highlights got brighter putting my brain into puppy stimulation mode rather than think logically and stick to your word mode. Memories of the work of puppies somehow faded or got lost in my subconscious. Puppies look so innocent but they know just what they’re doing. Believe me, our Max had me pegged the moment I walked through the barn door. So did my breeder. Dave asks me to just look at him and test his temperament as I know more than him in this area. Max kept following us being ever so quiet, calm and giving the “aren’t I the cutest dog you’ve even seen” look. So I pick him up. He is like a rag doll in my arms being placid. Oh no, he licked me. I quickly put him down. Whew, that was a close call. But curiosity got the better of me as I saw other puppies being wild and this one just quietly following us and sitting down if I turned around giving the ever so sweet innocent I need a home look. So what do I do? Pick him up and test his temperament. This puppy is passing 100% plus extra points. Okay I have to find something wrong with him and save face. Next I check his teeth, his eyes, his stance, etc. Aha, he has a stumpy tail!  Wait a minute. He has the same crookedness as a Bull Mastiff I had as a little girl! That sold the deal and I actually said the words, “OKAY DAVE we’ll take him home with us.” So much for sticking by my word. Then again, isn’t it a woman’s prerogative to change her mind? 

Once home we bathe this cute, stinky, black, no name puppy as he was raised in a barn with horses. Now we have a clean puppy who didn’t come with instructions and has no name. So begins the task of naming a brand new puppy. Dave doesn’t like any of the names I pick out and thinks mine are sissy ones and his are better. We are now politely disagreeing on names. Isn’t naming a dog supposed to be fun while you pour over tons of names doing numerous internet searches for days on end?  So, what do you name a puppy that will come the first time you say it? Seriously, what dog knows its name instantly? Talk about being in shock when I heard Dave say,” come here MAX” and Max came right to him!  Max now has a name. Ok one problem solved and we move to the next: Where is Max going to sleep?

I look at the crate and now not only have a doodle giving me the saddest eyes but Dave is too. Also, I have never crated trained a dog in my entire life, nor Dave. Max cries like he was being murdered once he is put in the crate and Dave takes him out saying he cannot bear to hear Max cry and “he’s lonely honey and he needs to be close to us”. I suggest a clock and/or radio to go beside the crate and one of our shirts can go inside the crate. Well, I did hear you start crate training the first night you bring home a puppy. So, I was following advice others had told me. Guess what? Dave and Max spent the night on the living floor sleeping together like babies while went upstairs to sleep alone in a king sized bed. I tried reading a book to overcome my newfound loneliness in sleeping alone.   

The following night, same thing happens.  Max howls once put into his brand new crate. Dave carries him upstairs and puts him in our bed? It was pointed out to me that we have a king sized bed and poor Max needs to be comforted while he adjusts to us and his new home. Come on, Max was used to sleeping on a barn floor with dirt and hay. So where do you think Max chooses to sleep on our bed? Right in between Dave and I with his head on my pillow and falls asleep within seconds! Little did I realize is that when a doodle sees comfort they go for it lock, stock, and barrel! Max slept on our bed at our feet and every night thereafter while his crate collected dust. Maybe I should just store my newspapers in there till garbage day? Because for the time being that was the only way I saw the crate being used. 

With each passing night, little did I know that Man’s best friend was also to become mine too. Max not only entered our home and lives but our hearts as well.  

So begins life with Max our doodle : the black, labby looking, stumpy crooked tailed Labradoodle puppy no one wanted until Dave and I saw him.   

The contents of this blog site are copyright (c) 2007, Annmarie Sparks. All Rights Reserved.                  

First of all I am Annmarie, mother to 3 teenagers and now 2 doodles: Max a Labradoodle, and Peanut a Goldendoodle. Oh yeah, I have a very understanding, Doodle-loving fiancé, Dave.  We live in Upstate NY on 6 acres and in a home that is too big. I am no longer 21 nor over the hill. Rather, I am right in the middle of what I call “the comfort “zone.  A time in your life when your children are somewhat grown up and more independent but you can blackmail them to do wash and dishes. Leftovers are no longer left over more than a few hours. They are now responsible enough to be left alone without worrying they will kill each other or break something. Or get the dreaded call from a neighbor about a party going on in your house while you are out to dinner. Schedules are more flexible. My chauffeuring days are easing up as I have 2 teenagers that somehow managed to get their drivers license, though to this day I wonder if they bribed motor vehicles or someone felt sorry for me. Mopped floors stay clean and shiny.  Phone messages are not only taken but sales calls are no longer handed to me as my teenagers devised creative ways to say no or get the salesperson to hang up on them. Life is getting easier, I can take time to smell the roses, weed and mulch my gardens, paint my house and even have a cup of coffee in peace in the morning. So, if it isn’t broke, why fix it? 

I had 1001 reasons why not to have a dog again.  Being a mother I am the ruler, the rule maker, heck I have a list of ‘Mom’s Commandments” to follow which my teenagers and fiancé giggle about behind my back. We were NOT going to have another dog for a very long time or something like “till hell freezes over” if I recall correctly. Besides, I have bad allergies and one teenager has severe asthma on top of his allergies. And let’s not forget what dogs do : they don’t come housebroken rather they break in your home as they pee and poop, they chew, they bark at nothing, they stink, they sniff areas I won’t mention, they wipe their wet mouths on your lap, they steal food whenever possible especially steaks hot off the grill,  need I continue? Those once clean shiny floors fade right before your very own eyes to be replaced with paw prints with scattered slalom water trails intermixed with mud and dog fur. Getting up at 6am to walk a dog in 2 feet of snow with a wind chill factor of 20 below zero just to watch steam rise from a firm poop in pristine snow is not my idea of fun. 

So how did I end up with 2 doodles? Honestly, I wouldn’t go back and change a thing but somehow on October 7, 2006 a nice, sunny, warm, breezy, fall Saturday a Labradoodle managed to squirm into my heart and life. Years ago I read about how the Labradoodle came into existence. However they had a hefty price tag attached to their collars. Thus that ended that…that is till the day Dave pointed to an ad for a Labradoodle at a ridiculously low price in our own town while having breakfast at a diner. Now my first thought was, “yeah right”. Dave has been known to use his quiet sweet demeanor to pull the wool over my eyes when I least expect it. So to humor him I decide to read this ad thinking maybe it’s a joke. It  wasn’t! My bluff has just been called. Somehow I fell for the “why not just call? ” and next thing I am talking to the breeder whose name is also Annmarie. Warning bells did not ring. Oh wait, the breeder is running errands all day like us and won’t be home until dinner time, just like us. Another warning bell I failed to hear. At 5pm we drive 4 miles from my house to see a Labradoodle that Dave and I agreed to “just look” and NOT take home.  Long story short: she had an older, easy going, laid-back 13 week old black puppy with a crooked stumpy tail. I didn’t want a black, older, labby looking puppy. The breeder whispers: “Black doesn’t show dirt, you know” and quietly walks away. I do all the temperment testing and this puppy is too good to be true. Somehow 2 hours later this older black 30lb puppy was in Dave’s arms  while I was writing a check and getting his shot records. What did i just do? My head was spinning, I kept nodding yes to the breeder not hearing all her instructions as all I could see was a mile wide smile on Dave’s face as this huge Labradoodle puppy licked him to death.

Next we’re off to the local Wal-Mart to buy puppy supplies and a crate. I swore Dave wore roller blades as he got out in record time. Max had lived in a barn and believe me, he stunk! When Dave got back to the car all he could see was Max and me sticking our heads out the window competing for fresh air. My kids were unaware they won the battle of getting a dog as they were away for the weekend. Once home, my kids kept asking, “Okay Mom, whose dog is it? And how long are you watching this dog? As we know you would never get a dog.” It took several weeks for them to believe Max was to be a part of our family. Life was grand, Max stuck by our side, and easily trained. End of story, right? NOPE. 

The breeder and I became friends so when she had her first Goldendoodle litter, I gladly accepted helping her to socialize them. What was I thinking?  Somehow there may have been a point I socialized too much with the puppies because on February 9, 2007 we had doodle number two.  Peanut, a 9 week old Goldendoodle managed to come home with us and be Max’s playmate and now my teenagers thought I really had lost all my sanity. (I didn’t have the heart to tell them they caused me to lose my sanity, not a doodle). On the 3rd day Peanut managed to climb out of a 2.5ft high pen and to this day is still a little Houdini. My life has changed in more ways than one; we have a two signs hanging on our dining room walls that say, “another day in PARADISE” and the other one, “Thou Shalt Not Whine”. Between those 2 signs and our two doodles our sense of humor has risen to heights unimaginable. Never a Dull Moment and Poop Happens are two mottos we live by daily, laughter is plentiful as well as kisses and love. My life will never be the same again and I couldn’t be happier. 

Dogs show us daily something humans are incapable of: unconditional love. As much as I think I am teaching my doodles there are many days they teach me with their expressive,soulful eyes, comical antics, and wet bearded kisses, pouring on as much love as they can without asking for anything in return but loving them back while they steal your socks at any given moment.

So why not sit back, grab a cup of tea and enjoy reading about LIFE with 2 Doodles and how I went from 1001 reasons why not to get a dog and ended up with two doodles.                                                                     

The contents of this blog site are copyright (c) 2007, Annmarie Sparks. All Rights Reserved.