Pink poodle Blossom lives on in our memory

When the first buds of early spring arrived, Blossom could tell she was a dog of a different color.

Maybe she couldn’t see it with her own eyes, staring down that long nose. Dogs are supposed to be color blind, right?

But she knew it when her owners, Paul and Alice Williams, began working the punk-rock hair coloring “Manic Panic” into her white fur, right down to her skin. She practically could hear heads turning and squeals of delight, the pink poodle paparazzi rushing for a piece of her.

“I don’t know that she knew she was pink,’’ Paul said. “She just knew she was special. Her nails were done. Her bows were in. We spent that extra time with her.’’

When pet owners lose their “fur babies,’’ they often refer to it as “crossing the rainbow bridge’’ -- the animal equivalent of a heavenly home.

So when Blossom crossed that metaphoric bridge -- no doubt one with a pink line as a center stripe -- on Friday, Aug. 21, it left a canyon-sized hole in the hearts of Paul and Alice. As the rest of the world was observing National Dog Day this past Wednesday, they were still grieving the loss of Blossom, three months shy of her 11th birthday.

Alice and Paul are pet lovers and dog groomers. They celebrated their 52nd wedding anniversary in June. They have no children, so their poodles have been like sons and daughters. The celebrated dogs have brought great joy to their lives, not to mention a measure of fame and recognition.

Blossom was their third poodle to serve as the unofficial “official” mascot of the annual Cherry Blossom Festival.

Delise Knight and her husband, Paul, introduced the first pink poodle, Tedi, to the festival in 1994. Eventually, the torch was passed to Alice and Paul, who rolled out the pink carpet for Casper and Lacie.

Blossom arrived in their lives in late 2009, making the 434-mile trip from a breeder in Arcadia, Florida. She served as an understudy to Lacie at the 2010 festival. “She was just a pup in my arms,’’ Paul said. “I toted her around to almost everything.’’

By the following year, she was being groomed for the royal job. She wagged and tagged along to events at nearly every venue. The ribbon cutting. The parade. The fashion show.

Alice and Paul came to realize the magic of their poodles from the actions and reactions of others. “When they’re pink,’’ Paul said, “it’s like a magnet.’’

Casper, who was named after the friendly ghost, was a gentleman canine. Lacie, who was known to ride around town in Paul’s pink 1975 Cadillac convertible, was a lover.

“She wanted everybody to touch her,’’ Paul said. “If you didn’t approach her, she approached you.’’

Blossom was accommodating. Not only was she man’s best friend, she was a man, woman and child’s best friend,

“If you wanted one person in the picture, or 10 or 20, she would just go with the flow,’’ Paul said. “She would do whatever it took to please.’’

Wherever she went, it was like her personal highlight reel. And because she was a child of the smartphone era, most folks had a camera in their pocket. She may have been the most photographed animal in Macon history.

“We used to hear people say they wished they had brought their camera,’’ Paul said. “Then it got to where when one person sat down to get their picture taken with her, there were as many as a half-dozen cameras going. I always have said I wish I had a nickel for every picture taken of Blossom.’’

With a cotton candy-colored animal on a leash, Paul also used to joke he had more snapshots of himself taken from the knees down than anyone on the planet.

After Paul and Alice announced Blossom’s death on Facebook, they were flooded with photographs from across the years.

The 2020 Cherry Blossom Festival in March was canceled because of the COVID-19 pandemic. But had there been a festival, Blossom would have been there. She might not have been able to keep pace in the parade, and her stamina might not have been what it has been in the past. She would have been there in more than spirit, though.

She started acting lethargic in May. She bounced back after a procedure to drain fluid from around her heart. She was her old self again. She began taking heart and blood pressure medication.

But by August, Blossom began going downhill. Alice and Paul held out hope their alpha dog would rally. After all, their two other standard poodles each lived to be 14 years old. Surely, Blossom still had some tread on her tires.

Sadly, her health continued to decline. She had difficulty resting.

“Her window kept getting smaller and smaller,’’ Paul said. “Back in May, we knew she wasn’t going to be cured. We just were hoping for a bigger window.’’

Now, her successor, Cherry, will take the reins, and the festival will embrace her. Paul and Alice claim she has a big personality. She is convinced she is the “center of the universe.’’ So watch out.

We do love our pink dogs.

Ed Grisamore teaches journalism at Stratford Academy in Macon. His column appears on Sundays in The Telegraph.