by Toye Gillman

Created on: October 29, 2008

Mitch was a silver miniature poodle. When he was born, he was all black with a little white patch under his chin. I'm dating myself by adding this, but we used to watch Mitch Miller on TV. We used to laugh at Miller's pronounced, odd-looking beard. For this reason, I named my little bearded puppy, "Mitch."

We had a silver miniature poodle named Suzette. A few years later, we took in an apricot colored miniature poodle whose name was Coco. This was "back in the day," as the saying goes, when pet owners were not as informed as we are today. There were no public service messages or urging from the vets to encourage people to spay and neuter, and there was no Internet to conveniently find information. Coco and Suzette bredunintentionallyand Suzette had three puppies.

I was privileged to be present during the birth, and Suzette allowed me to help by letting me cut the umbilical cords of each puppy, rather than her chewing them. Watching those three births was one of the greatest experiences I've ever had. And afterward, seeing the productthree beautiful puppiesI was ecstatic. My happiness was short-lived, as my Dad told me we could not keep any of the puppies. I was devastated. But I knew I had to accept it.

So when they were weaned, each pup went to his new family. Fritz went to my cousin, who lived out of state. We were very close, so I was able to see Fritz fairly frequently. BlueBoy went to some friends of the family who lived way out in the country and eventually moved to New Hampshire. I never saw BlueBoy again. Mitch went to some friends of my parents who had a two-year-old little boy. After a week, they gave Mitch back, because he was knocking the child over as he jumped and played.

I was so happy when Mitch came back. Unfortunately, Dad knew someone else who wanted him. It was a guy who worked with my Dad. That family also had Mitch for about a week, when they gave him back to us for some reason. Once again, I thought my prayers had been answered. However, Dad knew one other family who wanted Mitch. To my surprise, he was returned from that family also.

I persuaded Dad that it was meant to be that Mitch stay with me. He finally agreed, with all the cautions about how I was going to have to take care of him, clean up after him, and all the other little warnings parents give their kids in the "pet ownership" lecture. My Dad had taught Suzette to sit, and he thought that was the grandest thing ever. He was so proud of his smart little dog. He told me, "If that

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