Thursday, December 31, 2009

Don't call me anything but a Coton de Tuléar

Hi, I'm a dog named Mika (pronounded "Meeka") and I'm a Coton de Tuléar (Coton for short). Coton means cotton in French, thus the name. If you had the privilege of petting me, you'd see and feel where the name came from. I'm soft and fluffy and just downright irresistible. When some people first see me, they sometimes think I'm a Maltese. I am completely insulted by that. OK, that may be a bit strong, but I am NOT a Maltese or a Poodle or a Westie. So, if you meet me on the street, please refer to me by my proper breed name. I am most certainly a Coton.


My ancestors came from the island of Madagasgar (off the continent of Africa). A main port city there is Tuléar, also a part of my breed name. So, I've come a long way from there to the United States. How did we get to Madagasgar in the first place? Some think way back in the 16th and 17th centuries pirates brought us to Madagascar on their ships, either for companionship or to control the rats and such on board. I control the squirrel population in our yard by chasing them up trees, so the latter might be true!


I'm considered a rare breed and you won't find one of my relatives at the AKC dog show on TV. My mom says I am as rare as they come, personality-wise. Some of my personality traits fall into the typical profile of the Coton; I'm happy, playful and affectionate. But, all dogs are different, so you can't pigeonhole us dogs anymore than I could you humans. We are all unique, in our own peculiar ways.


Sometimes my parents call me a "stinker." I don't know if it is because I grab their slippers when they're not looking, just to get their attention. Today I got a hold of my mom's cold weather hat, that she likes to wear when we take a long walk, and took off with it. I love that hat. It has fake fur on it and resembles the squirrels I chase in the yard. In fact, my mom looks like she's got a squirrel on her head when she has it on. I don't think she knows how goofy she looks in it. Maybe that's why people point deliberately our way as we pass. Or, it could be because they think I'm one fine sight to behold!


Well, I'm off to get into some more trouble, so have to sign off for today. I'll write more later, on how my parents trained me (ha!) and the peculiarities I have that my mom refers to. She loves me though. How do I know? She feeds me, takes me for those walks, kisses my grungy face and just puts up with me in general. I guess that makes me one lucky Coton de Tuléar.