One of our dogs is a Yorkshire Terrier. In fact, he’s been with my wife longer than I have but that’s another story.
The thing is, whenever I take him for a walk over the park, he always ends up scrapping with dogs that are bigger than him (which isn’t hard, I know). I call it Little Dog Syndrome.
But, in fact, it’s me that suffers from LDS. Let’s face it, a Yorkshire Terrier is hardly a man’s dog is it? It’s not as though I have to struggle to pull him back on the lead or bring him to heel (when I did this for the very first time, I overdid it and he was flipped into the air, somersaulting, before landing next to me).
When I first met my wife and it was just me, her and the little ratdog I would only ever take him for a walk after dark in case I came across anyone I knew. Actually, there was one occasion when I saw a neighbour and, automatically and without thinking, I picked him up and shoved him under my coat. Goodness knows what the neighbour thought – strange sounds and movements coming from under my jacket.
But I cope with it now – I’m getting older and have children. I always have to take one of them with me because, you see, that way, if I do see someone I know I can say it’s their dog.
03/06/05 @ 17:02