The Search Begins

So how did I find a Portuguese Water Dog in the fall of 1979? Well, it wasn't easy, but I was persistent. Maryanne was a great source because she had joined PWDCA, the Portuguese Water Dog Club of America, so I had some help there. I visited one couple who lived locally. They had bred their girl, but unfortunately she didn't get pregnant. Then Maryanne heard of a litter on Long Island that had just been born. I immediately called the breeder and found out all the males were promised. Would I consider a female? Would I? I had always had males and knew nothing about heat cycles and the like. After consulting and considering, I said YES! The die was cast. I was to get my puppy in late December so I spent the time reading everything I could about raising puppies and of course playing lots with Maryanne's Brilha; but there still was the fact of the landlord who didn't allow dogs to be considered. A plan needed to be hatched and fast.

I Had to Have One!

So it began; I had made up my mind; I was going to find a Portuguese Water Dog puppy. Never mind that they were harder than the old adage "hen's teeth" to find being that there were only several litters a year and around 200 in the USA; never mind that my curmudgeony (but really down deep inside sweet) landlord only allowed cats. I would find one. But I wasn't about to tell him ahead of time.

It was summer, and I had a share in a shore house so I decided to find a job waitressing that would keep me on the beach all day and earning money in the evening to be stashed away -- saved for my new puppy. Puppy! Just the word excited me.

The Beginning

Everyone starts somewhere, and I started my love affair with Portuguese Water Dogs back in May of 1979. A little background, at the time I was recently divorced, teaching and going to graduate school and living with two cats, George, an orange tomcat and Bouja, a sweet calico. My old Beagle, Nicky, was still going strong -- crazy as ever -- living with my parents because I couldn't have a dog in my little rented carriage house. Life was good. Then my father got sick and after a brutal yet valiant fight with his disease, died in May 1979.

The day I returned to school after his death and funeral, my life changed because I met a black, curly Portuguese Water Dog puppy owned by my friend and fellow teacher, Maryanne. I was smitten, and I can still see that moment like it was yesterday. I was heading up a few stairs to our hall as Maryanne came out of her classroom carrying her new puppy Brilha. Maryanne put her down and said, "Go see Aunt Cathy." and Brilha wiggled and wagged to me as fast as she could. When I picked her up, I found out that she licked as fast as she wiggled and wagged. Thus the love affair began.