Small But Mighty

In a family of wildebeests with huge personalities, the smallest one occasionally gets overlooked.  Recently that’s been Poppy, the Brittany’s story.

It didn’t used to be like that. She was small, but in charge.

Poppy was the latest of a string of seven rescue Brittanys. I was down to an elderly boy Brit and a two-year-old Great Dane. It was a change from the days I had four Brits. It was quieter, not better.

 I did something I’d never done before: I went on the American Brittany Rescue page and started looking for dogs.

All of my Brits had sort of shown up. Occasionally with a push from the folks ABR. The call usually went, “I know you don’t really have room, but we have a very elderly, desperate dog that needs a home. She/he is perfect.” I always said yes, and they were always perfect. (I’m talking about you Rocky and Annie.)

This time I had a list of requirements. I wanted someone who could play with Murray, the rambunctious, big Great Dane pup. The new dog needed to tough and feisty. I saw a listing for a young, wild-eyed girl with a long fluffy tail (!) in New Mexico.

Soon I was cashing in my frequent flyer miles for a round trip to Albuquerque.

I got there in the morning and was picked up by the dog’s excellent foster mom. After a lunch that was mostly an interrogation to make sure I was good enough for Poppy, we went to a pet store and I bought a crate. Then we picked up the Poppy (then known as Brighty, Yuck)  and headed to the airport to catch a flight home. I was in New Mexico for three hours.

A quick flight later, the newly christened Poppy and I were inside an LAX parking structure. The baggage people, apparently blind or oblivious to the FIVE signs reading LIVE DOG THIS SIDE UP had flipped her crate. Poppy was tangled in her blanket.  As I opened the crate to unravel her, she leaped out and took off.

Welcome to Los Angeles.

 While I was dodging cars and chasing my new dog around the lot, all the horror stories about foster dogs getting lost forever were looping in my head. Did they ever find that show dog from Westminster that got loose at JFK?

Thankfully, true Brittany that she is, Poppy was fascinated by the crazy person yelling after her waving snacks, and allowed me to catch her.

She and Murray took to each other immediately. She loved that she could hide under him; he loved her boundless energy. When he was tired, he just put a giant paw on her head to hold her still. Mostly though, they zoomed around the yard in an endless game of tag.

Most Brittany’s don’t have tails. They are either born without them like Quatro, or have had them cropped as infants, like all my other Brits. Poppy is an exception, and her tail a luxurious flag. One time I looked out my office window to see her digging a giant hole. The only thing visible was her wildly wagging tail. Of course I didn’t have a camera or phone.

I once had a really angry man dressed in camo scream at me because he was offended that I told him she was a Brittany. Apparently he was a hunter and used to own several hunting Brits.

“Brittanys do NOT have tails!” he hollered. I explained that she was and did, but he was having none of it. Okay then.  Poppy and I finally just walked away before things got out of hand. She wasn’t in New Mexico anymore.

I began taking her to agility class with me and Murray. My awesome trainer, Terry Simons, was only slightly less annoyed about taking on a headstrong Brittany pup with ADD than training my lumbering Great Dane, but he’s a good friend and didn’t give me too hard a time.  Terry’s always up for a challenge. Poppy certainly was/is challenging.

Initially Poppy didn’t understand the game. At our first show-and-go, she popped out of the ring and ran into the middle of a soccer game the next field over. As I was panicking that I’d lost her forever, she zoomed toward me, ball, in her mouth and followed by a pack of angry players.

So sorry guys! Who do I pay to replace that ball?

Not long after that, agility clicked in Poppy’s mind. She suddenly understood that if she did the dumb things I asked, snacks were distributed. Soon she was zipping through the weave poles, playing up and down the dog walk, and generally, putting me to shame as I trailed behind her, trying to keep up.

Poppy did really well in her first shows, and nearly got her titles. But Murray (and I) hated the heat, so we only competed in the winter. When I show my horses. So we never finished. But we both loved it.

Poppy is staring down her 13^th birthday. She is definitely slowing down. Instead of literally climbing trees to nab the squirrels in the front yard, she’s now content to acknowledge them, but can’t be bothered to chase them. She does still bark at the horses to show them who is boss. They don’t exactly run away, but they do slowly meander in a different direction.

Two weeks ago she developed what I thought was a burst blood vessel in her left eye. I took her to the vet, and he diagnosed a blood clot and the possible early onset of glaucoma.

Days later we saw an eye specialist. Poppy was already blind in that eye –within seven days – and she was in agony. The phrase, “the worst migraine you can imagine,” was thrown out. We tried additional treatment.

For a week Pop was extremely patient about getting 20 different drops in her eyes and four different painkilling pills. It didn’t help.

She went to the vet to have the eye removed, which will solve the pain issue permanently. She looked just like she had gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer and took all the blows in her face. But she is recovering remarkably well, and is already barking at the horses.

My biggest concern right now is keep a cone on her head so she can’t screw with her incision. In the past when she has had to wear one, she has managed to get it off immediately. Usually before we leave the Vet parking lot.

But I saw this weird ball cap/visor thingie on a dog at the eye doctor’s office. It might work. So I ordered it. I’m hopeful.

When she’s healed, I’m going on Etsy to buy a bunch of blingy eye patches because my little Poppy girl will rock the hell out of them. I see her as Wonder Dog.