Poodles come in three sizes. Some people say four, calling the super tiny ones tea cups. Toy poodles are the tiniest, weighing no more than seven pounds. Next are miniature poodles, weighing as much as 13 pounds. And the largest of the lot are standard poodles, some topping the scales well over 50 pounds.
Toys and miniatures are easy to carry.
Standard poodles are not.
And that’s what Francois was, a standard poodle.
Francois lived with his family in a big house in the suburbs. It had a cushy sofa and shaggy wall-to-wall carpeting. Plus, Francois had his own fuzzy bed. Outside, he had a fenced in yard with lots of trees and soft, sweet smelling grass.
Because Francois was a young dog, his owner thought it would be a good idea to take him to the Rover Reform School for an early start in basic training. But, on his first day of school, Francois’ owner hit every red light. When they got to Rover Reform, the parking lot was full and they had to park car far away.
His owner opened the car door.”Come on, Francois.”
But Francois just stared at the pavement. What was that black stuff? It wasn’t cushy like the carpeting or fuzzy like his bed. Francois wouldn’t come out of the car. No matter how much his owner begged. No matter how many treats she promised.
An earlier class let out. People walked to their cars, their dogs straining on leashes and barking at each other. Francois wasn’t interested. He just stared at that strange black ground.
Francois’ class was about to start, so his owner lifted him up and slung him over her like shoulder like a sack of potatoes and walked into the school. It wasn’t easy and it was a sight: his owner who was no more than five feet one inch tall, lugging 45 pounds of black curly-haired Francois, hanging halfway down her back.
Once at school, Francois learned Sit, Down, Here, and Stay faster than any of his classmates. But he never got used to that hard black pavement. Before and after each class, his tiny owner had to hoist him up for his ride to his ride.