Copper
We have a poodle. His name is Copper. We drove up to Pennsylvania to get him, right before Thanksgiving last year. He’ll be a year old on September 18. Right now he’s forty pounds of willful puppy fun.
We got him when he was eight weeks old. He looked like a fuzzy red bear cub. Look at that face.
Our last dog was a bit–indulged, let’s say, so we wanted to start off on the right foot with Copper. We watched The Dog Whisperer and tried to be the leaders of the pack from Day One.
But he was just so cute. Plus, he’s a boy dog, which I’ve never had before. He seems more headstrong than our last poodle, the lovely Gigi. Gigi was completely housetrained by the time she was ten weeks old. She was fastidious, and I think had only two accidents in the house, ever.
Copper is now seven months old, and while he’s really very good most of the time, he still has an accident about once a week. I don’t know if it’s a Copper thing or a boy dog thing, or if it’s all my fault. All I know is that I have to get all my carpets steam-cleaned, and soon.
This is what Copper looks like now, as an adolescent:
You can see he’s a handsome lad, and it’s hard to deny him anything. Though I try. God knows I try.
Copper is essentially one big snuggly Mama’s dog. But he’s willing to take attention from wherever he can get it. He can get very enthusiastic in requesting attention. This is what he looks like when he’s enthusiastically requesting attention.
You can see he still looks like a bear. One of those godless, man-eating killing machines.
At least, he likes to think so.