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Mimosa Havanese


Jomaran's Little Miss Muffet - November 17, 1995

Mitzi was my little "heart" dog and my special girl for so many years and we did so much together. I am so happy and lucky to have had Mitzi in my life for so long and have so many wonderful memories of her and the things we did together.

OTCH JOMARAN'S LITTLE MISS MUFFET - CD, CDX , UD, CGN, CGC, RN, RA, RE, NJC, NAC, NGC, AGN, AGI, PSI, VADC, VSGDC, VOAC, VOJC, TNN, TNO, TGN, OTGN, OGC, SJATD, HIC and HT. You can see from all the letters that Mitzi was a very busy girl her whole life long. We trained and competed in Conformation, Agility, Obedience, Herding, Rally; sometimes Freestyle just for fun, and she was a therapy dog too! In her lifetime, she earned 27 titles and certificates. Mitzi was a lively little dog and always ready for anything. She competed till just a few months before she died, earning her Rally Excellent title at 12+ years of age. During her life, Mitzi earned a very many Havanese "firsts" which will ensure her memory lives on in Havanese history. She was an awesome little dog that will never be forgotten. Mitzi crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 3rd, 2008 at 12&1/2 years of age.


How I got started in the wonderful world of dogs

Do you ever wonder how you ever managed without dogs in your life? Do you remember when your first dog insinuated its way into your heart? I certainly do. I grew up dogless in an allergic household; fish, a turtle and even a seahorse just never really counted in my view of what a pet should be. In my mind, you need to be able to pet a pet, to cuddle to snuggle, to teach it tricks. When I married, I could not wait to have a dog but oddly enough my husband insisted on grass in the yard first. He held good to his condition and his promise. The weekend after the grass was laid, he bought me my first dog. An All-Canadian or Heinz-57 as they were referred to back then. The "pig" of the litter, fat and rolly-polly and ever so sweet. "Max" we called him as he came home riding in a Maxwell House cardboard box. I was hooked. Dogs would always be a part of my life.

"No girls!" my husband decreed. He had a notion that all female dogs, their urine that is, would kill the grass. Unattractive dead spots marring the green expanse of lawn of which he was so proud were something he simply could not accept. "Boys only! he insisted; boys would sprinkle the trees and spare the lawn. Though I privately doubted that boys would be so discriminating, our first dog was a male, and our second and third. I longed for a girl... not only for the reason that I was denied; an intangible yearning called to me. Years passed and our pack grew then gradually dropped to one. It was time to find our lonely senior a playmate. Researching beyond Saturday’s newspaper ads, I found the perfect breed for me. All reports of the Havanese portrayed a little dog that embodied the best qualities of every dog we had ever owned, had the luxurious long fur I loved and was wrapped in the smaller package I desired. After many months of waiting, a litter was born and one would be mine ... a male, of course. The weeks crept by till finally it was time to go pick up our new companion.

January, 30 degrees below; the snow sparkling in the brilliant sun under a cloudless blue sky, a typical mid-winter day on the Canadian prairies. A blizzard in the forecast. What to do ... wait for the weather to change? (it could be weeks), go now? (the storm may hit early), wait for another litter? (it could be months). It seemed I had been waiting for so long. Eight hours there, eight hours back and maybe an hour or two in between for rest stops and other essentials, just 24 hours in all, 24 hours for my life to change. The lure of puppy breath called and off we went, the trunk packed with storm gear just in case.

There were 6 puppies in the litter. The breeder brought in two girls for us to see. Girls? She must have brought in the wrong puppies by mistake, I regretfully assumed. "Well, I was thinking" began my husband. "Havanese are pretty small dogs" he observed. As he placed a tiny black and white bundle in my arms, he continued "A Havanese puddle is probably no bigger than a quarter; the grass can handle it." And then the words I will never forget, "Which one do you want?"

MitziA girl! I was getting a girl! The first thing that crossed my amazed and befuddled mind was that I needed a name, a girl name, a girly girl name well suited to a dainty feminine little furgirl. The perfect name just popped into my head. She would be "Little Miss Muffet", what could be more girly than that? The two girls we had to choose from were both black and white and prettily marked. The first was cuddly, quiet and somewhat shy; the second a lively bundle of energy. As I snuggled the sweet endearing girl I held and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, I watched my husband as he tried and failed to contain the exuberance of the other as she jumped and grabbed at the strings of his hoodie, and climbed up, not for a cuddle, but to nip the tickly hairs of his moustache. I watched her, mesmerized, but also aghast at her naughty antics. Definitely not for me! My husband, who often knows my mind and heart better than I do myself, would not allow the choice I was about to make. “She's not the one you want” he said as he gently disengaged the snuggler from my arms to replace her with the wild one. He was right. She was perfect, she was mine. Little Miss Muffet remained a hooligan her whole life long, a tomboy in every sense of the word; she did not have a single dainty, delicate or feminine bone in her body. She exuded Joie de Vive with every breath. "Let's go!" was her motto. Obedience, agility, rally, pet therapy, herding, dance; always willing to try and always giving 100%, we became quite a team.

There have been many dogs in my life. From Max my first dog, to Miss Muffet my first Havanese and first girl. Definitely not the last, she has been followed by many more Havanese, both boys and girls, each one just as special as the first. I have been taken in Hook, Line and Sinker by my little furry friends. There is no going back. My life has gone to the dogs.