My childhood best friend was a toy poodle named Fluffy. I’ll be editing to add a picture.
He lived to be 17.
When I was 10, I had been begging my parents for a cat for half my life. My aunt kind of tricked my mom into going with her to a poodle breeder so I could help pick out a puppy for “her”
I wanted a small, hyper, playful black puppy but she loved the nervous one shaking behind the couch so we got him. After she signed the papers, she told us the puppy was a gift for me and my dad. We were so unprepared, he spent the first few days in a laundry basket filled with blankets until we went and bought all the stuff. He hid for a while but quickly made himself at home. It’s been 3 years since we lost him and sometimes it still hurts like the day we had to have him put down.
