Gigi

Long ago, I had a friend in my Aunt Alma's poodle, Gigi. She was an overfed, beloved, middle sized, black poodle with gorgeous flowing ears, who loved only Aunt Alma, me, and chasing her ball. Not necessarily in that order. Aunt Alma and I entered the family together, me as a surprize last child, her as a second wife, Gigi came along a couple of years later, and we formed a tight clique. I was thoroughly convinced that Aunt Alma knew exactly what Gigi was saying. She started telling me "what Gigi was saying" as a way to teach me to be kind to her dog, but I honestly believed it was a literal translation of what Gigi was saying, and my aunt always gave me a serious answer.

Aunt Alma started a home business grooming poodles, and I helped when I visited there. As I had helped when she took care of Gigi, as a precursor to her profession. I never thought of it at the time, but I do wonder that she was lonely, what her life had been like to have her married to Uncle Melton, who seemed to prefer being at a diner all day rather than at home. It would not have occurred to me then. They seemed so rich to me, a nice house with good things, plenty of food that Aunt Alma loved feeding me, even glass grapes in a decorative bowl. Posh.

I think poodles have gotten a bad reputation due to the ridiculous haircut they get, and the tiny, overbred variations. All in all, they are smart dogs from an old working breed.

This isn't new, you've probably seen it, but having found it, I had to put it up here. The company itself has, um, issues.