I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird

Hear, O seekers of hidden truth, the curious yet profound words of Rita Rudner: “I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.” At first, laughter rises at this playful thought, for it speaks in jest of dogs and their strange appearances. Yet beneath the veil of humor lies wisdom as sharp as the edge of a sword. For is it not the way of humankind to look upon what is different, what is clothed in unusual form or custom, and whisper, “Surely these must belong to some secret sect, some alien way?” The poodle, with its clipped curls and proud bearing, becomes a mirror for our own suspicions of the unfamiliar.

From the earliest dawn of tribes, men have gazed upon their neighbors and mistaken their dress, their rituals, their songs, for signs of strangeness or danger. One clan adorned themselves with paint, another with feathers, another with silence and solemn chants. To the outsider, each seemed strange, perhaps even cult-like. But within each practice was simply the same yearning for meaning, beauty, or belonging. So it is with the poodle—to one dog, its trimmed coat and peculiar shape may seem bizarre, but to another, it is only a fellow creature, no less loyal or alive. Thus Rudner’s jest uncovers a truth: the eye of prejudice distorts, while the heart of compassion sees rightly.

Consider the tale of Ellis Island, where immigrants from many nations once poured into the shores of America. They arrived with languages unknown, foods unfamiliar, and clothing strange to those who had long dwelled in the land. Some mocked them, whispering that such people were odd, that they clung to strange beliefs. Yet in time, these same immigrants wove their threads into the fabric of a great nation. What first appeared as a “weird cult” was, in truth, simply another expression of human dignity and hope. The poodle of society, misunderstood at first glance, became kin.

So too in history do we find the Quakers, mocked for their plain dress and quiet worship. To their neighbors, they seemed fanatics, out of step with the world. And yet, in their steadfastness they sowed seeds of peace, abolition, and equality that shaped generations to come. What seemed odd was in truth noble. Just as the dog may tilt its head at the poodle, failing to understand, so too do we often tilt our heads at those who walk a path not our own. But wisdom whispers: difference is not danger.

Rudner, with laughter, calls us to humility. For how often do we, like the dog staring at the poodle, mock what we do not grasp? How often do we reduce the unfamiliar to a caricature, branding it strange, ridiculous, or even threatening? Yet to do so is folly, for beneath every unfamiliar form is a heart not so different from our own. The poodle may look adorned for a pageant, but it feels hunger, loyalty, and joy like every other dog. And so too every person—no matter how foreign their ways—shares in the great human inheritance of longing and love.

The lesson, then, is clear: laugh at what is humorous, but do not despise what is different. Let the oddities of life become bridges for curiosity rather than walls of mockery. If you see a poodle, do not merely scoff at its strange hair; ask instead, “What joy lies behind this difference? What truth can I learn here?” In doing so, you will become wiser than those who scorn, and gentler than those who fear.

Practically, let this teaching guide your life: the next time you encounter someone whose ways confuse you, resist the first urge to judge. Listen, ask, learn. Where you might mock, choose instead to smile with kindness. Where you might reject, choose instead to welcome. For though we laugh at Rudner’s vision of a dog’s suspicion, we must not live as dogs blind to kinship. Let us instead live as humans who embrace the strange, knowing that in its strangeness lies beauty, mystery, and sometimes, the very key to our growth.

And so, O children of tomorrow, carry this wisdom: the poodles of this world are not cultists, but companions clothed in difference. Love them, honor them, and be not afraid of what you do not understand. For in the embrace of difference lies the true path to unity, peace, and joy.

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