When we brought him home about a year and a half ago, he needed a name, so he was named Misha (which means "Bear" in Czech). An animal communicator asked him his name and he said, "Handsome." Oops. He's right, of course.
We think he is poodle and papillon because of his giant ears, his cuteness, curls and his affectionate nature. In addition to all that, he's probably smarter than I am and could easily give the Sawtelle dogs a run. His devotion is 24/7. Wherever I go, so does he. With few exceptions, he is in the same room as I (often on my lap), and if I leave, he follows (although maybe with a withering look as he uncurls from a nap). Then, he is either next to me or standing in the doorway of the room looking out like a guard—in the bedroom, kitchen, wherever, he is usually on duty. In the car, he sits on the seat and stares unwavering at the driver. I'd guess that he's thinking he'll take over the wheel if anything goes wrong.
He has three adopted siblings and gets along famously with them. He especially likes barking with them, as he believes he has a beautiful voice and loves to "sing." His people, however, find his voice a little loud and quite shrill, but that doesn't seem to stop him. We're just hoping he learns a song we know soon. We crate the dogs when we leave, and he started a game with the others. I think it's called "Race me to the crate," and now I need utter only one syllable and Misha and company have stampeded into their boxes. He pretty much always wins, but then again, it is his game.