So a few years ago when I was clearly insane, I decided it was high time we got another dog. We were settled, I said. The kids were older, I said. I need the company, I said.

So plans were made, money was saved and soon enough our curly, warm and sweet new family member had arrived on our doorstep. We were in love.

Flash forward three years.

Meet the Poodle. Our naughty, naughty standard poodle.

He has certainly been the company I was looking for, but oh – so much more than I bargained for.

Unbeknownst to me, Poodles are apparently notorious laundry eaters. Like completely unrepentant and uncontrollable. Ours is addicted to socks. Clean socks. Dirty socks. Brand new socks still in the package. They are all like crack cocaine to the Poodle. He can pull a dangling sock off the foot of my unsuspecting 8 year old without anyone noticing. We don’t call him “Stealthy Lips” for nothing.

All things come with a price however,and the Poodle’s sock habit has cost us not only countless socks over the last few years, but also two massively expensive visits to the vet when he ate a sock that he , well, just couldn’t pass if you know what I mean. Gucci got nuthin’ on how expensive my socks can be.

Standard Poodles have the reputation for being a smart breed. Ours appears to be uncommonly intelligent when it comes to figuring out how to get the human food he loves so much. Our pantry is locked. Our fridge has to be secured. When I say secured, I mean it. I’m talking rope around, heavy furniture in front of it kind of secured. Our fridge is the Fort Knox of fridges.

Of course, Having four kids in the house means that nothing goes quite as planned. The Poodle counts on this and is constantly checking the fridge door to see if an errant child has forgotten to lock it. Last week he scored two pounds of hamburger and a prime rib. Thank god he was too full to snack on the salmon steaks. I have to include him in my grocery budget. I call it the Poodle Factor.

The Poodle is also a champion counter surfer. My counters have never been less cluttered. You turn your back on a baguette and it’s gonzo. Don’t even THINK of answering that phone if you want that sandwich. And he’s sneaky. He will bark at the door to make me go check – and while I’m gone he circles back to the cutting board to grab a pork chop. CRAFTY POODLE.

He also stalks the child most likely to be inattentive at dinner. Turn and talk to your seat mate and that long tongue has stolen a sausage. It’s like extreme meal eating. It could totally be a reality show. “Survivor – the Poodle Supper Edition”.

You’d think a dog like that and I’d have the most crumbless kitchen floor in the neighbourhood. Not so, my friends, not so. The Poodle believes that just like us, his food should come from the counter, the fridge and the pantry. No five second rule for him. And don’t even suggest he eat that Cheerio on the floor. He will look at you with disdain. And I’m all like THAT’S WHAT I GOT  YOU FOR! To eat the damn Cheerios on the floor! Sadly his warranty has expired.

Oh well. No love affair ever goes as planned. And we do love him. Our naughty Poodle.