Poodle Obituary
Vivaldi by Vibe Ulrik
From Rowan Knitting and Crochet Magazine No. 54
In Rowan Kidsilk Haze
…a finally finished product from this trip and a special thank you to Louise at English Yarns for having sent reinforcement supplies to counterbalance poodle yarn raids. I absolutely love the pattern, and even on double, the yarn proves gossamer and silky - I knit the sweater slightly longer than indicated and also tipped the hem and sleeve in pink as I like that dipped effect. I did need to run to consistent knitter, Karen, yet again (eternal gratitude, Karen) to sew up. Sewing is not my forté and I found the instructions for what went where in the pattern a bit daunting. It’s currently still unblocked, but I quite like it this way. However, above all, soul searching and pondering the future of our Prudle-the-Poodle went into every single stitch of this project, and culminated in a heartbreaking cruel-to-be-kind decision last Monday from which we’re all still reeling. And for the most part, throughout all she sat at my feet, as ever curious to establish what was going on.
For the past eleven-and-a-half years, every time I turned in our gate Prue’s poodle head has been at the sitting room window awaiting my return. Her hysterically joyous greeting regardless of appropriateness or personal wishes was the first thing to strike you - literally - on entering the house. From her window seat and via her wussie high-tone bark, she also reported on perceived threats in a range from conversationally disapproving to frenzied outrage and quivering curls. She wasn’t all bark and no action either - she was a huntress and her most triumphant nature moment came in this her ultimate year when, before I could catch her (and to my abject horror) (right in front of my eyes), she caught and slaughtered a baby sparrow unfortunate enough to have flown in Harry’s bedroom window at the very instant we walked through the door.
By nature Prue was given to involving herself in absolutely everything. As mentioned previously, while being broadly happy about having me at home knitting, she still never could fully grasp its attraction and was prepared to go to lengths to either understand or sabotage it. And I'm presuming that was why once again only last week she launched another assault: this time on the residue of my pink Chatham Townhouse Lace. Right up to her last, she rotated her day around the lives of everyone in the house, shifting her attentions according to availability of food, company, comfort and entertainment...
She was a keen footballer, and never turned down an outdoor game - she also enjoyed tennis. She harboured hostility towards cats and any potential rival in the form of stuffed toys - most recently a bear in a jacket drew her ire, and she devoted much energy to ripping off the jacket repeatedly while attempting to break the bear's neck in a very showy way.... In certain respects she was quite feline and I suppose this was a hunting demonstration for us to copy. Some years ago she went through quite a dark period where she developed a worrying obsession with a squeaking flourescent green X, which she protected and attempted to nurse like her puppy, even developing a phantom pregnancy for a time.
My godson, Jonathan, reminisced about Prue's revolutionary approach to table tennis which involved leaping up on the table and becoming literally the game. Scavenging was a way of life with her - she tended to be wherever there was food, and as often as she could get away with it, stuffed riffled pizza crusts and other off-putting matter down the side of armchairs for a rainy day.
She was a notable devotee of the manufacturing of nests, and to this end bored very effectively (not to mention destructively) right down into the springs of our sitting room couch. Periodically too she set herself up deep within the basket of unused bedding on the landing, or in the back of my wardrobe, flinging out shoes and garments willy-nilly to accommodate her grand plan. I've no idea what that was; I do know, though, that when she reemerged unexpectedly from one of these retreats (especially in the early hours with a crashing open of wardrobe doors) it could be absolutely terrifying. But despite periodically intemperate reactions from the rest of the household, nothing deterred her for long - It was a life mission with her.
Lucy's shoe and Prue -both did a lot of stylish promenading..
In younger days Prue was a poodle model at grooming competitions with award winning groomer, Suzanne from Dogsbody. Suzanne and her colleague, Tom, provided a home-from-home for Prue and while in for perfecting her pompadour they indulged her school prefect order-keeping approach around their other doggy clients. It was Suzanne who first pointed us Prue's way too, having recommended both breed and breeder for allergy suffering dog lovers.
And indeed her breeder had felt she was technically slightly small to be shown, yet she still grew to be a show stopper - I often felt that had the breeder seen her a few months down the line she would have bitterly regretted parting with her. We picked her because, for the duration of our viewing of the litter she set herself up in mortal combat with our Tom's school shoelace, despite being the smallest. My children have grown up with her and she has aged very stylishly with them. As late as March 2013, she featured in a painting by RHA exhibiting, leading contemporary artist, Bartosz Kolata, and up to her very last walk, her musty coat was still the subject of constant admiration until she inevitably tried to loot a bag belonging to the admirer.
And that's another thing - had we been criminally inclined, she could have made an excellent pickpocket. She was quick, lithe, smart and astonishingly nosy - anything that interested people interested Prue. Her enquiring head poked through bannisters, around doors, out car windows or up into our faces, and over the time we were fortunate enough to have her in our lives, formed a motif in pretty much everything from wake-up calls to bouts of deep nose-to-nose, foul-breathed sighing affection. Very little dampened her enthusiasm or joie de vivre besides fireworks, black bin bags at night and of course veterinary injections to combat her pancreatitis - they threw her completely out of kilter.
taken by Tom
The departure of her slight frame permanently has left a very big gap in our home and an ache in our hearts, but we've been very moved by the kindness and touching gestures from the surprisingly large number of friends who appreciated all the fun and joy she generated.