16th-century poodle with traditional clipping
In the heart of [a] tumultuous throng on the bridge leading to the castle stood poor blind Fridli led by his black dog. Scarce twenty summers had passed over his head. He was tall, of commanding stature and stalwart limbs, but fearfully disfigured by the deep scars and furrows which covered his whole face and the pits that marked even his sightless eyelids. A native of the Breisgau, he had entered the service of the Baron von Morsberg as cowherd there. A short time ago, he had lost his sight by small pox. Now his only way of gaining a pittance was wandering through the country with his black poodle, Forester by name, and a lyre the gift of the Lord of Morsberg.
Alas on this gala day, instead of the rich gifts on which he had so fully reckoned, poor Fridli reaped but pain and sorrow [for] not a single penny had been cast into the cap which Forester held between his teeth sitting up on his hind paws and looking imploringly towards, as he vainly hoped, a generous public.
The story of blind Fridli and his black poodle Forester, who begged with his cap in his teeth, was translated from German into French in 1869. The original title simply says “as drawn from old chronicles.” Whether these were the Strasbourg city chronicles or church records I have not been able to determine yet, but the story specifically dates Fridli to “towards the close of the eighth decade of the fifteenth century” or the 1480s.
Poodles (pudelhund) were an old breed even at this time, having been bred as water retreivers for noble hunters. The miniaurized version was also developed early. The tiny dog served as a noblewoman’s cuddly muff in the unheated church or cathedral.
That the story of this loyal black poodle, including his name, has been preserved for 500 years is wonderful, and I put Forester and Fridli in my novel.
Originally posted on 
