Hello, my name is Oli. I am a six-month old toy poodle, and I am adorable, am I not? Just look at this silly little bandana tied around my neck. This was the "prize" I got from going to the groomers, and having them wash and trim my hair. Do you know that this bandana actually has monkeys on it, and they are playing with balls? The indignity. How will anyone take me seriously in this getup? My mama can't even look at me without squealing about how cute I look. This reminds me of the time she made me wear a grey sweater in Montana. As if poodles don't already get looked at like foo-foo accessories without clothes. But she insisted that it would keep me warm in the snow, and I guess that she was right.
My everyday name, Oli, is short for "Olive Noire", which means "black olive" in French. I guess my mama decided that that would be a good name for me because black olives are small, and so am I. Also she has a fascination with France and the French language. So, she gave me a fussy name, but it's too formal sounding for a puppy like me, so Oli it is. Of course, I go by many other names from my parents and grandparents. They always seem to like to come up with something silly, like Mr. Puppy Pants, Oliphant, Olibug, Poodle-oo. The list goes on and on. Sometimes when my mama is in a funny mood, she'll sing songs to me and replace lyrics with my name and stories about my life.
Oh well. I suppose I have it pretty good. My parents love me a bunch, and I love them, too, even though they torture me with baths and brushing. I suppose it's not a lot to ask, since they love to cuddle me all the time and play with me. And my mama cannot walk past a pet shop without bringing me home a treat or toy. I've noticed that she now rotates my toys, which is kind of annoying when I search for one that I can't find. She must have her reasons. And even though my parents make me go to school to learn about puppy manners, it's actually pretty fun. I think the little French Bulldog has a crush on me. She's pretty cute, and we like to chase each other around.
Over time, I'll have lots of stories to tell about myself and about my people. There are some family dogs, too, who like to come visit and play. They're older than me, so sometimes they push me around, but I'm learning how to stand up for myself. After all, I'm much tougher than I look!
By the way, don't be fooled by the poster information for my blog entries. My mama says that I can use her account to post my blog entries because I am too young yet to have my own account. Whatever. At least I get to have my own blog.
