Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
My mother has never enjoyed dogs. She also has never understood why any sane person would want a canine companion. Years ago when my then partner gave me an adorable puppy for Valentine's Day, my Mom's response was "are you going to keep her?" (Actually the dog stayed around much longer than that partner.) So I gave up long ago showing my Mom cute pictures, and telling her funny anecdotes, about the many wonderful dogs who have graced my life.
Then Mom, who is 103, fell and broke her hip and is bedridden in her apartment in a building that does not allow dogs. She lives about 2 hours away from me, so now when I visit, I stay for most of the day. I usually leave Belle with one of her friends from our dog-walking group, but one Sunday no one was available to host her. Rather than leave her home in her pen (necessary separation from the cats when I'm not there to supervise), I popped 15 lb Belle into my canvas boat bag, smuggled her into the sacrosanct building and tucked her into the back bedroom with a kong full of goodies. I was in my Mom's bedroom reading her the next chapter of her book on the discovery of genes when she heard her aide talking and giggling on the other side of the apartment. Yup, Belle had made a new friend and they were yukking it up together.
Mom was worried that her aide had gone off the deep end or had secreted a man in the apartment, so she wanted me to call the agency and demand an immediate replacement. I explained that Belle was also visiting, that she is housebroken and doesn't shed a bit, and introduced her to Mom, who grudgingly admitted that she was sort of cute, but warned me not to ever bring her again. Belle sat on my lap in the chair next to the bed and we continued reading. After a while, Belle did her army crawl across my lap and stretched her neck out until she could reach Mom's hand and give her a few kisses. No reaction from Mom, so I thought she was sleeping. I continued reading (this book, by Siddhartha Mukherjee, is excellent, I recommend it highly), and the next thing I knew, Belle was ensconced on the bed tucked next to Mom's side. Still no reaction. I whispered "come" to Belle (who apparently thinks whispered commands don't count), when Mom, eyes still closed, said "leave her" and threaded her fingers through the curls on Belle's back. And there they stayed for more than an hour, when Mom opened her eyes and said "call the aide, Belle should have a drink of water." Not "you have been reading out loud for a long time, you must be thirsty." Later she asked if I brought anything for Belle to eat. I said I had dog biscuits but I didn't think Mom would like biscuit crumbs in her bed and she announced that she was too old to worry about crumbs in the bed. WHAT?!? This is not the Mom I grew up with.
When it was time to leave, I assured Mom that I would hide Belle in the boat bag again so the building board wouldn't give her a hard time about us breaking the no animals rule. Her response: "what can the board do to me, I'm 103 and I'll be dead soon; bring Belle again next weekend." Moral of the story: NO ONE is doodle proof.