I have mentioned our beloved schoodle, Tabby, in many posts. I even seem to remember telling the story of how she came to us. If that is true, I shall now repeat myself in honor of her birthday: How We Got Tabby.
Back in 2007, Steven worked with a fellow whose mother worked for the Velvet Dog, a dog grooming place we still patronize (and sometimes blog about). The mother was fostering this little dog whose original owner could no longer care for her. She would have kept the dog herself but had “five dogs too many” as it was. Did Steven know of anybody in need of a dog?
“Steve needs a dog,” piped up Steven’s other co-worker.
“She’s a sweet dog,” said the first co-worker. They cleverly showed me a picture of her when I stopped in.
“Oh, she’s part poodle,” I said right away, and they explained “schnoodle,” schnauzer-poodle mix. It’s fun to say, and it turns out fun to live with.
Hmmm… this story does not seem nearly as exciting to me now that I’m typing it in. It is much more interesting to me to take Tabby for a walk and write about that.
Oh, but that makes me remember to say a word about her name. Tabby. Steven and I did not name our dog after a cat. Her original owner named her Tabitha. I think the only person who ever calls her Tabitha is a neighbor of ours, a very nice older gentleman. Obviously one would call her Tabby. Or Tabbers. Or Tabber-dog. Or, as my mother calls her, Tabbykins. More formally one may call her Tabby-Tababbby the Schnitzel Schnoodle, but I don’t think anybody has.
And now I’m getting silly.
For her birthday, Tabitha received Schnausages in a Blanket (Schnausages for a schnoodle! Steven is a genius!) and a squeaky pig. She likes them very much. She wagged her tail when I informed her that I had written a blog post about her. Happy Tabby’s Birthday, everybody!
Mohawk Valley Girl 