About Houdini…..

“Oh my goodness!” Jabber said, “Does she even know how to read at her age?”

Yes.  Of course she knows how to read.

Oh, alright.  She doesn’t really.  But she knows how to type!  Here, I’ll show you:

qoeirualksdnfhb’ouj1[029[4u78 8

There!  That is Houdini’s typing.  See?

“What does it mean?” Jabber asked.

Well, it means that she got ahold of the mouse again and then decided to investigate the keyboard, placing her rather large paws on various keys and typing her message.

Houdini is quite clever, as has been previously established.  She continues to elude the seatbelt in the van, having figured out right off the bat how to wiggle out of her entire harness.  The harness remains securely attached to the seatbelt whilst the poodle wanders around in the back of the van.  To date we have not figured out how she does this.  And she only does this when she is alone in the way back seat.  We are hopeful she doesn’t attempt to take over the driving, but we are never sure of this.

We have faithfully maintained security of the front living room and dining room areas from her investigation for months, now.  Of course, she has always figured out ways to get into the area, the latest one being to simply jump over the 2 1/2 foot high fence.  We knew we were doomed then.  But, still, we left the fence up (this is about 25 feet long, by the way, requiring two fences overlapping to keep her out).  The area looked on order of a war zone, with the backs of chairs lined up all along to hold the fencing in place and to prevent further leaps into the zone.

As soon as we mastered that, she figured out how to get through the barricades on either end of the fencing–about four chairs on one side AND a table and on the other, a bench backing up to the fence and the wall.  No problem for Houdini who  (I swear) could get into or out of any predicament.

So we reinforced both ends.

Being bored with the entire situation, she promptly decided to be housebroken.

Of course she did.

She also decided she’d quit chewing on most things, although socks and shoes are still exempt from this ban.  She does love dirty laundry, too, so she is banned for the duration from the laundry room.

And our closet.

She’s figured out how to open the closet doors, so the ban obviously doesn’t work.

Cooking in the kitchen, I have to keep everything in the center of the island.  She now has a long REACH and often puts up her paws to look around and see what is being prepared.  She’d like a bite of some things, I know, so I must keep them safely away.  This does make cooking somewhat problematic.

She’s getting large, but still would like to be a lapdog.  So I have to get down on the floor with her daily, sometimes several times a day, so she can sit on my lap and get hugged, petted and kissed.  She returns the favor.  She quite literally climbs into my lap on the floor–at least as much of her which will fit into my lap.   If I don’t do this, she will literally cry.  There is nothing so pitiful as to hear your now-close-to-45 pound “puppy” give you an “AWWWWWWWW” in a high pitched wine.  I obey.

And today she is at the vet’s receiving her required surgery–she is not destined to be a mother.  However, a career is likely in her future.  We aren’t quite sure what, exactly, but perhaps as a magician?

Houdini before she came to live with us and work her magic.

Houdini today (we call her Poppy, though).


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