Sandton sheep, a school friend used to call them. They were everywhere, behind every security gate, in every flat and on every lap. Even if you couldn’t see them, you could hear them. They were the emblematic animal of the Joburg suburbs. If we were going to redesign the city’s coat of arms back in the late 1980s, it would have needed a stoepkakkertjie, a hadeda and a BMW 3 series cabriolet, the boxy one. Preferably in red.
For every tannie and every kugel who loved Maltese poodles, there were plenty of others who hated them, of course. I heard lots of jokes about 101 uses for a dead Maltese poodle. People would see the dog-killing scenes in A Fish Called Wanda and imagine that happening in Sandown instead of London. They helped turn Parkhurst into Barkhurst long before it became trendy to sit at Espresso with your Weimeraner under the table, its leash tangled around your legs.
So where have all the Maltese poodles gone? I hardly see them these days. (“Woolies range of winter slippers?” suggested one wag on Twitter.) In the park where I walk, there are all sorts of breeds: pointers, German pointers, Great Danes, Australian shepherds, Labradors. But no Maltese poodles. They were never a breed, of course, and though they were white and woolly, they weren’t remotely related to the real Maltese, which dates back to the Romans. They were simply a collection of pavement specials that had evolved in the South African landscape into a specific type, like Watsonia vanderspuyiae or the orange-throated Longclaw.
My grandmother had a pair of them for fifteen years. When she first got them as puppies, she wanted to name one after the man who gave them to her. Gary had installed the garden’s irrigation system. “Name the other one Wayne,” my mother suggested facetiously. So my grandmother named them James and Simon. They were her constant companions, accompanying her on all her holidays; they were veterans of the flight to Plett. They especially loved going on game drives (my grandmother would have to hide them under the seat when the game guide spotted lions. Heaven knows what other visitors who encountered her must have thought).
Like anything else, dogs are subject to fashion. Presumably Maltese poodles have gone the way of the peasant blouse and the gypsy skirt. A list of the ten most popular dog breeds in South Africa offers some clues. At the top is the Yorkshire Terrier, followed by the Labrador, Bulldog, Golden Retriever and Bull Terrier. Four of the breeds are lapdogs, the Yorkie, the Miniature Schauzer (6th), the Pomeranian (7th) and the Chihuahua (10th). (Only one breed, the Rottweiler (9th) is used as a guard dog, suggesting that security is not the primary driver of breed selection.)
Of course, Maltese poodles wouldn’t appear on that list because they’re not a recognised breed. Still, small dogs are clearly still popular. Perhaps we’ve become breed snobs, electing to go for pedigreed companions rather than our tried and trusted South African specialty. (In contrast to the US, for example, where hybrids like the Labradoodle are popular.) Perhaps there needs to be a Proudly South African Maltese poodle revival. Along with Pratley Putty and the Kreepy Krauly, it would be our gift to the world.
They’re in the Sandton diaspora, I guess.
But having said that, one of my herd is a Maltese Cross. Long-legged, aggressive, likeable, and very good as a guard dog. Bites with intent. Escapes on long overnight sagas. Bitten me several times when I try to calm it from going for unwelcome guests. Torn some good clothes. A serious dog. It was not chosen but given unto me. And I have every respect for its assertiveness, alertness, and bravado. And if it should one day savage an unwelcome armed intruder nigh unto higher realms no court of law would seriously hold that against me – ‘A what?’ asks the Judge. ‘A Maltese poodle? This man, indeed no member of the Sandton diaspora, cannot be held responsible for an armed intruder being savaged nigh unto higher realms by a Maltese poodle! Case dismissed. The fellon’s wounds are clearly self-inflicted. Here, little doggie! Good boy! You wouldn’t dream of it, even were you able, would you?’.
Our so-called maltese podles were a specially stupid and constantly barking species that gave a bad name to dogs. I am glad that the have disappeared.
The public are often very influenced by the movies and TV ads. We had an explosion of spotted dogs after the film 101 Dalmations – many ended in animal shelters – and Dachshunds after the Tastic Rice ad. At the moment those annoying yapping snapping Jack Russels are big, probably due to various “cute” ads.
My personal feeling about Malteses is that they all got run over. Never encountered a dog like that one for running in traffic.
We must be very careful of specie-ism. Saffers perhaps ought to know better.
Bloody toilet brushes!
At least worsies and Jack Russels are real dogs.
I am unmindful of their destination, but rejoice in their departure. Truly a despicable little creature.
My three Boerboel’s love them, as hors d’oevres of course!
Ah, but the Zimbabwean French poodle showed them up. We had one with a vocabulary of 80 words, tried and tested by a teenager, the only people with the time to do such research.
Plus crooked teeth, so the queue of outraged “your dog bit me,” people at the gate were unable to produce any marks to back up that outrageous slur.
Always ready to learn new tricks, even in old age — such as climbing a ladder on to the roof while humans were working, just for fun, and the chance to run around the other side and bark at the next door cats from the roof, he was also the master of the strategic retreat — a sure sign of intruders was the dog coming and getting behind your legs.
Myth and Ian Shaw speak for me too. I suffered much for several years from a neighbouring Maltese Poodle of which its owner would hear no evil. Speciality: flying at people carrying heavy and fragile burdens, frightening people off bicycles, etc.; and, when all else failed, driving me out of my skull with aimless barking.
We judge people by the colthes they wear, the cars they drive, the houses they profess to own, their indisputably wonderful and accomplished offspring and of course the dogs that inhabit their sphere. The maltese long since outlived their usefulness as a subject of discussion. It is simply a matter of status and doing what is recognized as symbolic of one’s importance. We have four dogs ( a brown doberman (highly pedigreed,, french poodle from a pet shop in Durban, a maltese cross ( SPCA)and a spaniel cross (SPCA) plus five cats (all Orphans). The dogs are all prone to pea everywhere and bark a lot, the cats fight and scratch everything and so on. None are status symbols, all are loveable in their own right and perhaps more trouble than offsrping, the cats are all beautiful, cuddly and in control, even the dogs know who the boss is. No class, no status seeking, just living in peace is what we call it .People cull animals when they become a nuisance. I wonder how they feel about us?