Carol’s Column

Maltese poodles are intrepid South African settlers

Last weekend, a colleague of mine, Trish Beaver, wrote a delightful article about the ubiquitous Maltese poodle. This cottonwool dog, she said, quoting veterinarian experts, was undoubtedly an evolved South African breed.

Another fascinating titbit she imparted was that South African Malteses had no sense of direction. The following story bears this out:

We are an animal family and, over the years, have owned many pets. Besides my husband, there have been dogs, cats, goldfish, 29 hamsters, chickens, two cocks, one cow, one immature bull, three ducks, Rover the rabbit, a tortoise named Boris and Henry the hog, an apprentice warthog.

Naturally, a Maltese poodle has always graced our residence, and our present Maltese, Dirty Dumpling, comes from an illustrious line of African Malteses. She's a direct descendant of Candy Two, in turn the daughter of Candy One (in their time, both known as Candy) begat from Omo, our original Maltese. Which makes us fourth-generation Maltesers.

This tale is about Candy One, an intrepid explorer who always sneaked out for a gentle trot around nearby Zoo Lake.

One day, she disappeared and didn't return. We waited to hear from somebody as she wore a collar with name and phone number. Nothing. Later, we found the collar stuck on the fence through which she'd crawled.

Distraught, we scoured the neighbourhood and left countless posters on trees. To no avail. She'd vanished. I phoned local vets, put advertisements in the newspapers and visited the SPCA regularly.

Then, one morning, I received a call from a furniture salesman in town who said he'd seen my advertisement and was sure he had Candy.

On arrival at the shop, a pathetic morsel of dirty white fur leapt into my arms and waggled her tail furiously. I cleared the matted hair and knew that without doubt, we'd found our beloved hound.

Candy came home, where she was greeted with much passion by two- and four-legged family members. Bathed, pampered and fed cheeseburgers, her favourite food, she seemed none the worse for her adventure.

A few days later, a stranger called. In her arms was a frantically wriggling white Maltese she'd found wandering around the Zoo Lake. Realising she was lost, she'd taken her home and looked after her for the past few weeks. By chance, she spotted our notice on a Parkwood tree and realised her stray might be the one in question.

Again, there was no doubt, this was the original Candy. But, when placed beside Impostor Candy, they were identical. Same size, same kinked tails, flat feet, protruding teeth, smelly breath and sniffling eyes.

So, we kept both Candys and then there were four because Impostor Candy, unbeknown to us, was in the family way when rescued.

We found suitable homes for the puppies but retained Candy and Impostor Candy who both happily answered to the name Candy.

They grew wonderfully old and when Candy died at the grand age of 16, Impostor Candy followed her a few weeks later. It was as if she was joining her alter ego.

A few weeks ago, Dirty Dumpling climbed through a newly-made hole in the fence and disappeared. We put posters on trees and fortunately, because she wore a harness collar, she was returned the following day.

But, since the posters were displayed, seven lost Maltese poodles have been brought to our house.

We've put “found” ads in the paper with no results.

What Trish Beaver didn't mention in her definitive piece was that Malteses may have no sense of direction, but in true South African style, they're great settlers, too.

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