Those of you who know Auntie M personally already know that I am very fond of dogs, and so watching Westminster has the hallmark of the Oscars at our house, although for last night’s first session we did low calorie pudding instead of popcorn.

There are just so many adorable breeds, all puffed out and cleaned up, as well as a few absurd and ridiculous ones.  I mean, the Puli and those cords?  A black mop for sure.  And that sorry cut on the poodle?  I know it has a history back centuries, and those pom-poms keep the dogs joints warm and protected, yadda, yadda.  But I feel for the poor thing out there, strutting his stuff and pretending NOT to be embarrassed by such a horrendous ‘do.  You just know the poor things is thinking: “Get me outta here” but has been trained to keep his nose up and pretend he likes it.
Give me my scruffy Spinone anyday over those tricked out cuts.  A hunting dog with webbed feet and a double coat, this guy has a large nose, human olive eyes, and the silliest grin this side of the Rockies.  As I type this he’s curled up on his ottoman, sleeping off a romp with his choc. lab pal in the marsh.  He arrived home with only a white stripe showing down his back, the rest of him black with stinky marsh mud, requiring a cold shower outside before he could come in the house.  Now the fragrance of Wet Dog permeates the rooms and as he wiggles and stretches in sleep, remembering his morning romp, I have to refrain myself from going over and cuddling the big goofy guy.  Poodle Boy, eat your heart out.