Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

product: Big G slicker brush April 4, 2019

Filed under: poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:42 pm
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Professional products produce professional results.

If you have a poodle or a poodle cross (doodles, etc) then the dog’s coat likely needs daily brushing to ensure a healthy coat and to avoid the matting that means the dog has to be shaved down.

Wimpy pet store slicker brushes brush the top of the coat, but don’t get down to the skin if the coat is longer than half an inch.  Enter the Chris Christiansen Big G slicker brush.  This brush has transformed my life!

My miniature poodle is in a modified (short) continental clip with a big jacket.  The Big G allows me to brush him to the skin and keep him matt free. I brush (always mist the hair as you brush, to avoid breakage!) then comb for a velvet, professional look.

I highly recommend this product!

You can order it from professional grooming supply stores, but Amazon has it as well!

( I’m an Amazon Affiliate. Click the photo to be taken to the Amazon page for this brush.)

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poem- tossing

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:24 am
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I toss.

You race.

You leap.

You flip.

You pant.

You return

on a joy-fueled frenzy

for the fun of the chase.

To vicariously share your bliss,

I toss.

.

.

(Just in from a supremely athletic game of fetch- with a Chuckit Flying Squirrel. Now a happily exhausted poodle is at my feet.  I once saw a Ziggy cartoon that said he just wanted to go to dog heaven and toss balls for eternity. I sometimes feel like that is already my prime raison d’etre according to Kiltti!  How about you? Do you play a lot of fetch?).  

 

 

Poem-beauty August 14, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:02 pm
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Bath

twice shampooed

hair conditioned.

Five hours on the table:

brushed,

de-matted,

brushed some more,

combed

shaved,

scissored,

scissored,

scissored.

Gorgeous poodle emerges,

from scruffy mess.

.

.

(my boy is in a historically correct Continental clip, but we’ve been travelling and it’s grown out. We’re now visiting his breeder, who ‘for fun’ gave him the whole beauty treatment. Wowza. It’s not as much hair as a show cut, but it is incredibly impressive.  More work tomorrow!)

 

poem- pocketful November 14, 2016

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:01 pm
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Old blazer.

I reach into the pocket:

A piece of plastic wrapper and a hole.

While pristine on the outside,

Both sides within are eaten through.

Instantly,

the ghost of an old dog is in the room with me,

the metronome of his tail slowly waving

while he looks away

to hide the twinkle in his eye.

 

 

poem-puppy love August 5, 2016

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:43 pm
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Wrapped around my leg

munching a clattering antler

fuzzy black love.

.

.

Puppies are so sweet when they’re not chewing your glasses or devouring a black ballpoint pen on your cream leather sofa…

 

poem-mischievous July 8, 2016

I feel like I could follow him

around the house saying ‘No’

because getting into trouble

always seems his goal.

But mischief is usually

just a disguise for boredom,

so I’ll work on tricks instead

so I can reward him.

Making time is part of the contract

and I’m the one who chooses how to act.

.

.

PearlHart&Kiltti-smallfile

Look at those mischievous eyes!    There’s a lot of training to give him a job to keep him out of trouble!  So far (at 5 months old) he knows: sit, lie down, lie across my feet, stand on 2 feet, go to your bed, move back, fetch, drop the toy, trade whatever is in his mouth, put the ball on the lacrosse stick…

(Those awesome purple patent leather and psychedelic pink shoes are Fluevog Pearl Harts which were the shoes that celebrate finishing my Masters and my birthday last week. Very festive, no?)  🙂

 

 

 

 

 

poem-first mourning February 13, 2016

Filed under: Poetry,poodles — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:58 am
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And so I wake on the first morning

without my heart dog.

No thumping tail to greet me

No clicking nails tattooing down the hall.

No urgent woof encouraging me

No stinky kisses

to comfort me aching.

No rolling for a belly rub

with contended sighs and eyes blinking

nonchalantly, as if you were surprised

to find my hand caressing you.

No need to put my purse up high,

or guard food on the counters.

No rattling as you did dishwasher pre-wash.

No.

Only bits of fluff, still hiding in corners

after your last hair cut,

a hundred photos,

and a million memories of a sweet-tempered,

loving heart that beat with mine.

.

.

.

Oh, how I miss my boy today.

 

 

 
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