Favorite Bichon Stories

Date:    
From:    Crlybichon Crlybichon@AOL.COM 

	A few months ago when I was out walking with Zoe and Emma.  This woman stopped me
	and said, "What cute little poodles!"  I told her that they were not poodles, but 
	Bichon Frises. 	She said, "I don't think that you are right."  I assured her that
	I was reasonably sure thatI was right.    She said, "Well, if you say so.  My
	brother has a Bichon, except HIS is black!!"

Date:    Tue, 24 Jun 1997 09:13:54 -0700
From:    "Pat, Cher & Kristy" 

	Billy is 4 months old and our African Gray parrot Morgan is about a
	year.  Morgan has really started talking these past few months and loves
	to harrass Billy.  He is forever repeating "Billy,NO!", "C'mere Billy",
	etc etc.  I always assumed these were just mimicking episodes.  Silly
	me!  The bird does have a brain - Morgan was up on top of his cage and
	decided to hop down to the carpet for a walk-around.  Well, Billy (alias
	"Odie") comes bounding in the room, tongue flapping, tail wagging -
	right up to the bird.  Morgan fluffed up to twice his size, looked Billy
	right in the eyes and yelled "Billy, NO!!!!"   Thought I'd die
	laughing.  Well, Billy kind of backed up and looked confused but then
	decided that Morgan  really was talking to him and wanted to play so he
	started toward Morg again.  At this point, Morgan decided he needed some
	help, ran over to me muttering  Up!, Up!, Up! (his cue for getting on my
	hand).    Aaagghh! I am surrounded by intelligent creatures!

	Then last night, I was picking up a "little accident" Billy had behind a
	chair and Morgan was watching me.  He says to me "Billy, good boy?"   I
	laughed and told him "Oh no, Billy is a VERRRRY bad puppy".  As I walked
	off to dispose of the accident, I heard Morgan say, with a chuckle, "Bad
	Dog, Baaaddddd Dawwwg!"

	I know if you don't have parrots, you will probably have a hard time
	believing all of this, but if you ever want to be entertained for the
	next 60-80 years, purchase an African Gray.  They are absolutely
	amazing!  Billy, of course, now has way too many parents for his own
	good    :)


	Thanks for listening - have a terrific day!

	Cher, Billy, Morgan, etc, etc

Date:    Wed, 25 Jun 1997 00:16:32 +1000
From:    Michael White 

	Gentlemen,
	Particularly those of you who are new to Bichon "Fatherhood"
	I  humbly offer the following tips and advice for those of you may have
	trouble maintaining their masculinity whilst going about the humiliating,
	and may I say dangerous in some neighborhoods, ritual of "walkies!"

	Danger generally comes around the corner wearing stud collar, oversized
	jaw, very small brain, and everything docked that shouldn't be whilst the
	one feature that will surely eliminate the gene pool is left in place.
	This also applies to their dog.

	Upon sight of your powder puff on a string they will normally respond with
	a strangled laugh and a creative remark such as "Look Fang something soft
	to eat for dinner!..and you can have the pompom for desert!"
	Unfortunately he means it, and if you don't immediately swing into action
	with the following defense plan you could find the going a bit sticky, in
	more ways than one.

	My first reaction was based on self defense and would swing the lead like a
	bolas or mace.
	If you get enough momentum up you may be lucky enough to get in a lucky
	first hit that stuns them long enough to make a getaway, however this also
	has a couple of drawbacks.
	Firstly you will probably excite the other dog into more ambitious carnage
	and secondly it will be very hard to explain what happened, and the
	defensive tactic used when you return to "Mummy."
	They will never understand what fear can do to a man.

	I've found that the best form of self defense is to confuse the owner long
	enough to make an escape.  Some examples include......

	* "SShhhhh! we're working under cover and 'Rinni' here is a master of
	disguise.  Don't make any fast movement as she/he's trained to kill"

	or

	* "Have some pity man.........This is what happens when you send you wife
	and daughter off to buy a sheep dog!

	or

	* "I bought this for my daughter to put her PJ's in but a miracle
	happened....we call him/her Pinochio."

	or finally........not recommended for the squeamish or those bleed easily!

	*  "Listen Mate/Pal/Sport, anyone can walk behind a mutated killing machine
	like that....but it takes someone who doesn't have to prove he's tough to
	take a powder puff on string for a walk!"

	***Important tip*****  When using the last one .....be ready to run like
	hell.

	I hope this has been some help to you all.
	There is someone who understands what you have to go through.

	Keep running

	Michael White
	Sydney, Australia
	A great place for sprinting.

Date:    Wed, 23 Jul 1997 
From:    Michael White 

	Dear world,
	Having read, for some weeks now, how exciting and rewarding a visit to a
	dog show can be, it was with some enthusiasm and pent up anticipation that
	the three of us bounded headlong into the early Winter promise of Sunday
	morning.

	Everything that could be washed was washed, could be combed, combed and
	poor Mandy was brushed till her skin throbbed pink through her curls.
	Blood would have been drawn had I not confiscated the brush & comb from
	Susie and bustled them into the car.

	Off we headed to the show ground singing jolly songs like "Love me love my
	dog" at the top of our collective voices. Mandy didn't know all the words
	so she mimed.
	In the choruses our little car joined in, rocking from side to side, onto
	one set of wheels then the other. Just like a KFC ad.

	Our early start proved fortuitous as we were able to easily find a parking
	spot in the show ground.  The three of us sat peering through the
	windscreen
	at the many new adventures waiting for us only minutes away.  Sue tried to
	brush Mandy again (just in case) but I revealed that I had left the B & C
	at home and bundled them both out of the car in case a replacement set was
	found.

	Within a few steps I became a little concerned as I couldn't see any dog
	nearby that weighed less than our car. Weaving our way through Bull
	Mastiffs, Great Danes, Pit Bulls and Rottweillers we apologetically tip-
	toed our way in the direction of shorter dogs.

	Some relief was found half way in the form of a caravan that sold pancakes
	with everything bad dribbled on them. That was short-lived though as Susie
	and Mandy dragged me off in another direction having seen another fluff in
	the distance.   And she was right! In a few uncomfortable moments of climbing
	through stalls of cheap looking badges, caps, T-Shirts, mugs, front door
	mats saying "Welcome...Killer dog inside!", Lillipution statues of strange
	looking dogs and leads and collars that looked like they would be used to
	restrain mountain gorillas

	Finally pushing our way through a yard of yapping Papillons we burst into
	the world of show Bichons.  Ta Dah!!
	I stood there looking very proud of myself for having located our soul
	buddies and expected Sue to be the same only to find her pale faced with
	shock and looking for a spare brush for a quick touch up.  At this time
	Mary appeared from out of a tent and greeted us as if she had known us for
	years. Handing us each a tongue with a Bichon attached she plopped
	down on her knees talking and cuddling Mandy who immediately fell in love
	with the whole scene.

	Mary I imagine is a composite personality of everyone on the BFL, an
	absolute delight and once we were vetted by her we were invited to meet
	Carmilla!

	From the hushed tones and genuflecting in the direction of the judging tent
	we gathered that this was some honor being bestowed upon us and followed
	behind in the direction of the Grand Dame of Bichon.

	Now, I may be wrong in making this assumption but I feel there is a
	Carmilla! at the head of every sporting activity or interest group.  But
	this Carmilla! was something different.

	As we approached the tent I felt a distinct shiver run down my back. Sue
	was beaming.  The reason?  Mandy had fluffed out in terror of something
	weird and unknown. I also noticed  that owners of Dalmatians veered away
	from the area.

	With an almighty flapping of tent, Carmilla! was amongst us, looking for
	all the world like Cruella De Ville.  Holding Mandy aloft in sacrificial mode
	she announced "Well who's this? Nice compact face, good body, bit
	overweight, lousy cut, should tidy her up and show her! What's her
	lineage?"

	Sue bounced in on cue, "We don't really want to show her and I
	can't remember her ancestry off hand!" Well, this brought a scathing look
	from Carmilla! so I felt I needed to leap to Mandy's defense. "As far as I
	can recall she was from the Blue Mountains (west of Sydney) mother was
	Rabide Biche from Running Pariah Dog out of Condemned Kennels.

	Poor Mandy was dropped so fast that I was afraid she would displace all her
	patella's at once. With a gasp Carmilla! backed into the tent and zipped her 
	flaps before Mandy had found her feet. Mary, Sue and I looked at each other, 
	then at Mandy and without a word decided that it would be best to leave quietly 
	via the Maltese section and through the Pekes over the Chihuahua's and under the
	Irish Wolf Hounds to our car.

	Mary invited us to the next meeting, which was very kind of her, but she
	must have forgotten to tell us where and when it is. I asked her if Mandy
	could compete in future shows? "She's in a class of her own" she replied
	"and today she certainly created a first!"
	So, that's all there is to it. Our Mandy got her first, FIRST!.
	Without having the right haircut.
	And now we're waiting for the ribbon. She'll look good in blue.

	Michael, Susie and Mandy White
	Sydney, Australia
	Where doggie shows are a piece of cake!

Date:    Fri, 19 Dec 1997 13:36:12 -0600
From:    Dianne Jopling 

	 Waiting on permission to reprint this story here

THE END




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