this fuzzy life, so far
Okay, so if you have a neighbor or friend with a goldendoodle, or are lucky enough to have one yourself (these days, the odds are very high that you fall into one of these categories), you may be tempted to roll your eyes when I insist that my dog is a goldendoodle. I assure you. Although there are certainly any number of scams out there (when I was looking myself, I was shocked at how many people claimed to have both parents to the puppies but then refused to let me see them, whilst insisting I meet them off the freeway in a strip mall parking lot to meet the puppy), and many people likely unfortunately have a dog they think is a goldendoodle but which is likely suspect (and can't figure out why their allergies are still such a problem), I actually met my Reyka's parents. I can assure you there's some poodle in there, but it's kinda hard to see here, isn't it?
I haven't seen any follow up pictures of her siblings, but my girl looks very much like a golden retriever. That's some of the mystery and joy inherit in bringing home a cross-bred dog. They can come out looking mostly poodle (which seems to be the most common), or they can look very golden.
She does, however, have the supermodel poodle long legs and long, elegant nose. She's still gaining size and weight (46 pounds a couple weeks ago, probably over 50 now), but it all just seems to be added muscle and length to her legs.
She's over nine months now, and hasn't yet learned that she is, perhaps, too big now for some of her former playmates (at least if she doesn't learn to start tempering some of her strength in her enthusiastic play). She possesses a wholehearted conviction that everyone - dog or person - that she has ever met in her life has a deep seated desire to be her best friend.
She would like to convince you, as every dog ever in the history of dogdem, that her people don't feed her enough or play with her enough. But the truth is, she is treated to lots of adventures and wide-ranging explorations, which usually include feasts of deer poop. Thank goodness for modern vaccinations.
Training her early on not to react badly to thunder and fireworks has served her well through the cold season and the emerging allergy season, as both of her people have impossible sneezes that scare the hell out of mature adult humans. I am biased, of course, but have been pleased with how easily she transitions from high energy romping through the Red Butte hills to snoozing under my desk as I write (though I am desperately worried for the tender garden, come spring).