Marley and Henry at 1 year old.
Marley and Henry were rescue dogs who came to me through a Poodle Rescue group. If you know anything about puppy mills...well, they are horrible. Female dogs are bred over and over until they are just used up..then they are disposed of. The males used as studs are also bred constantly and are thin to the point of being starved...kept in small cages and only allowed out to breed. HORRIBLE. The puppies from these situations are not left with their mom or the rest of the litter to learn dog acceptance manners.They just have to "wing" it. They are moved along for quick sales and if not sold...they go into the puppy mill program and the vicious cycle is repeated. Along comes Marley and Henry.I was approached at the big Portland, OR dog show in January 2008 by the rescue group. did I knowof any Poodle personages who might want another dog(s). I actually did. I contacted the person and she was eager to take both Marley and Henry. The arrangement was made that I would foster the dogs until their new "forever" home could come from Utah for the dogs. well......after one week of fostering the dogs, she called me to tell me she could not take them. WHAT???? I had three dogs and two more was going to put me over the "happy Poodle edge"!
Walking five Standard Poodles was WORK. I purchases leash splitters and tethered two dogs on a tether so I could manage 4 of the 5 and my dear and good friend, Marianne took the 5th and walked her three as well. We often laughed that we probably looked alot like Roman Chariot drivers....walking 8 Standard Poodles on a country road. It was good times. But, I couldn't keep 5 dogs.
Marianne surprised me one afternoon by telling me she and her husband, Randall, had discussed taking one of the two. Her only stipulation, in adopting/taking one of them, was she could pick which one and I would get the other. I had already thought that Henry's personality would be good for my herd...he's quiet, non assertive. Marley was like a dust bunny in the wind and I wasn't sure I needed that type of personality. Marianne chose and she chose wisely for her home when she chose Henry. OK...I have the little Tazmanian whirlwind dog, Marley!
Oh, I forgot to mention this. The dogs names were not Marley and Henry when they came to us. They both had perfectly awful names that sounded like they came right out of the Nazi journal of how to name your Third Reich children. That just would not do. Thus we named them names that suited us. Henry is Henry and Marianne and Randall chose not to paper him. I changed my chocolate to Rockin' Bob Marley, with Marley as his call name. Thus. Henry went to live with Marianne, Randall, Ivan and Lucy. Marley joined me, John, Jazzy, Ira and Riff, who turned out to be Marley's best bud!
Poodle Mom, Marianne with Ivan, black, Lucy, apricot and Henry, white.
From the beginning of Marley's life with us, he got the short end of the stick. I was still in hot pursuit for Jazzy's last performance title (we got it along with a few High in Trial shows), training Riff and in pursuit of his third performance title. Ira was happy being a couch potato. But, little Marley was left alone - no competition training until the summer of 2008 when I started him in group beginning obedience classes.
Marley is a smart little guy. I've had smart/willing dogs before, but Marley rises to the top of the list for trying. He had at the time...one big flaw: he was aggressive. His aggression was not toward people - it was toward small dogs that he considered lunch. It was a trait that I could not figure out, even with training, how to work out. So, I found myself going from being enthused about him to saying, "That's OK if he never gets in the ring." The problem with that statement is that it was a big fat lie. It did matter to me. I determined that I was going to figure out the tools necessary to help Marley with his aggression issues. Then, the last shoe dropped. My beautiful Riff, Marley's buddy, tragically died of Canine Torsion in November 2008. It took the wind out of my sails...literally. I gave up training all of my dogs, especially Marley.
Every time I looked at him, I thought of Riff and it hurt. I don't remember when I really quit grieving for Riff, but I did. I was finally able to put him in a safe spot in my heart and let the Universe take his spirit. I took a deep breath and called Marley to my side.
Fun in the field: Marley and Jazzy, 2011
I deluded myself with words like, He has a big bubble; don't get close to him. He doesn't play well with others. Statements which are true, but not entirely honest. He's aggressive, plain and simple. My hopes were dashed again as I became more tense with him around other dogs in the class. But, in spite of me, he was learning things and learning very well...and never forgetting what he had learned. I still wasn't sure where Marley fit in training when we were asked to leave a class because he picked up a small dog in the class. Talk about stress., So, I gave in and classes fell off my radar: AGAIN. I had to get inside my head and inside Marley's before I just gave up completely.
The other shoe dropped in December 2011, when Ira died unexpectedly of liver failure. Like I said in another post: it was a crappy Christmas. In my grief for Ira, it was Marley who snuggled with me and padded along after me looking for any kind of attention. With Jazzy being content to be somewhat aloof and not "needy", Marley and I finally bonded. I am the first one and the only one, besides my son Jeff, who has said this: Marley began to grow and change when he was the only male dog in our house. His stress level dropped, he started to relax and we started lessons again. My hopes for us becoming a team were growing in itty bitty steps.
In March we moved to Texas. Me and the dogs in the van and my son, Jeff in the SUV with our bird, Joey.
I was somewhat despondent about the move and leaving dear friends and family back in the NW. I missed them terribly and started to become depressed. I knew I was somewhere bordering on feeling very sorry for myself, so I took the step one evening and went to a local Obedience/Agility dog club. That one meeting changed my life, as it was, so to speak.
I was told of an excellent trainer who is a 4th generation dog trainer and one who has extensive background with weird little aggressive brown Poodles! After talking with her, Marley and I made our first of many appointments.
The difference in him and me is amazing. She was able to break down my barriers, listen to me cry about my two beautiful dogs who died and lament about beautiful Jazzy getting older. We sat for over an hour and I poured out my heart to her about my dogs and what they mean to me in a way few people can really understand (unless, of course you are a dedicated dog person) and living in Texas. I just fell apart. She was patient and then firm when she asked me, "Pat, what do you want out of your relationship with Marley?" No one had ever asked me that question. It didn't take me very long before I told her, "I want to develop into a team. I want him to trust me and I want to be able to trust him. And...I want to win! she smiled and said, "Good answer. Now, let's get to work!"
I realized something, Marley. It's your turn. Now, wag your tail!
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