Standard Poodle Quotes

Put another way, I love all of you dog lovers, but I have to spoil your fun a little with a fundamental truth. There is, in an important evolutionary sense, no such thing as a specific breed of dog. If a Great Dane has sex with a dachshund, you get a dog. If a Standard Poodle has sex with a Jack Russell terrier, you get a dog. If a mutt has sex with a so-called purebred, you get a dog.

So these are you brothers, huh?" "Yeah." "Well, thanks for this. I might need to go home and masturbate for the rest of the evening." "You know, if a guy said that, it would be super creepy." "Oh, I'm sorry, Poodle. Does the sexual double standard make you grumpy?

It wasn’t every day there was a shooting in a historic lighthouse involving a celebrity chef, an officer of the court, a standard poodle and a fudge recipe.

There was another message and I had a pretty good idea who it was from. For a while I sat in the kitchen and petted the attack poodle, deciding whether I should listen to the message or just erase it. Finally I pushed the button and Curran’s voice filled the room. “You can run, but it won’t matter. I will find you and we will talk. I’ve never asked or expected you to deal with me on shapeshifter terms, but this is juvenile even by human standards. You owe me an answer. Here, I’ll make it easy for you. If you want me, meet me and I’ll explain my side of what happened. Or you can run away from me the way you always do, and this time I won’t chase you. Decide.

My parents first rented a tiny apartment on Chapel Street with their black standard poodle, Turbo. When I arrived, they had to move out because the landlord allowed dogs but not babies. They found a place on Edwards Street, where the owner allowed babies but not dogs. Fortunately, I made the cut and Turbo went to live at Grove Lane.

Excerpt from Storm’s Eye by Dean Gray With a final drag and drop, Jordan Rayne sent his latest creation winging its way toward the publisher. He looked up, squinted at that little clock in the right hand corner of his monitor, and removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. His cover art was finished and shipped, just in time for lunch. He sighed and stood, rolling his shoulders and bending side to side, his back cracking in protest as the muscles loosened after having been hunched over the screen for so long. Sam raised his head, tilting it enquiringly at him, and Jordan laughed. “Yeah, I know what you want, some lunch and a nice long walk along the beach, hmm?” Jordan smiled fondly at the furry ball of energy he’d saved from certain death. With his mom’s recent death it was just Sam and him in the house. Sometimes he wondered what kept him here, now that the last thread tethering him to the island was severed. Sam limped over and nuzzled at his hand. When Jordan had first found him out on the main road, hurt and bleeding, he hadn’t been sure the pooch would make it. Taylor, his best friend and the local vet, had done what she could. At the time, Jordan simply didn’t have the deep pockets for the fancy surgery needed to mend Sam’s leg perfectly, he could barely afford the drugs to keep his mom in treatment. So they’d patched him up as well as they could, Taylor extending herself further than he could ever repay, and hoped for the best. The dog had made a startling recovery, urged on by plenty of rest and good food and lots of love, and had flourished, the slight limp now barely noticeable. Jordan’s conscience still twinged as he watched Sam limp over to his dish, but he had barely been keeping things together at the time. He had done the best he could. He’d done his best to find Sam’s real owners as well, papering downtown Bar Harbor with a hand-drawn sketch of the dog, but to no avail. The only thing it had prompted was one kind soul wanting to buy the illustration. But no one had ever come forward to claim the “goldendoodle,” which Taylor had told him was a golden retriever/standard poodle cross. Who had a dog breed like that anyway? Summer people! Jordan shook his head, grinning at the dog’s foolish antics, weaving in and around his legs like he was still a little pup instead of the fifty-pound fuzzball he actually was now. So without meaning to at all, Sam had drifted into Jordan’s life and stayed, a loyal, faithful companion.

His boyfriend ‘sell-by’ date had expired two nights ago when—and she shivered at the memory—he’d drunkenly licked her cheek like a standard poodle in lieu of a kiss when he’d said goodnight. Which was the last in a short, but consistent list of line-crossings that had effectively ended them.

I took a few deep breaths, my heart racing again, and wondered if I should reconsider my decision not to burden the couple of new friends I’d made so far in Bristol with all of this. I’d met Clare on Clifton Down just days after we moved in. I’d actually arrived in the city a week before Danny, who’d had work to finish up in London before he joined me, and I’d abandoned the mountain of unpacked boxes for an hour to clear my head and give Albert a decent walk. Clare had a Standard Poodle, a white curly bundle of energy who had bounded up to Albert, nuzzled him enthusiastically and then run off again, looking coyly over her shoulder. Albert had hesitated for a moment and then raced gleefully after her, leaving me and Clare standing helplessly, leads dangling from our fingers, awaiting their return

The Standard Schnoodle, or the medium-sized Schnoodle, is a cross between the Miniature Poodle and the Standard Schnauzer. It’s more energetic than the Miniature Schnoodle, which is more suited to indoor and apartment living than its larger counterpart.

The Poodle was ranked in second place, just behind the Border Collie. While the Schnauzer didn’t do quite so well, it still ranked very high—the Miniature, Standard and Giant Schnauzers are respectively listed at the 12th, 18th and 28th places on the listing.

Adrian entered her as a candidate for the next training program without consulting her. Elv went to the first session to tell Adrian to mind her own business, then she saw the dog that was supposed to be hers. Once again, it was the ugliest. A standard poodle that had been scalded with boiling water, tied up in a dark room for months. “I don’t know about this one,” Adrian told her. “In all honesty, it might be better to put it out of its misery.” The poodle was hiding under a chair, shaking. Its teeth were chattering. Elv sat on the chair where the poodle was hiding. She didn’t know why she was allowed to be alive. Maybe that was her fate, to know she wasn’t worthy of anything and yet be given another chance. “Fine,” she said to Adrian. “I’ll stay.

rinks, and variety theaters, often appearing as a "specialty" with their acting dogs, Jack and George. As part of their act, George, a standard-bred poodle, sat on a pedestal with an apple on his head, which he allowed