13: Size Matters

13: Size Matters

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: I Can't Believe My Dog Did That!

Size Matters

Things that upset a terrier may pass virtually unnoticed by a Great Dane.

~Smiley Blanton

“Let’s just name him Dammit Dog,” my husband Roy suggested. “It’ll just save time later when those puppy teeth are chewing on our toes.” Roy was talking about the new addition to our family, a registered Yorkshire Terrier, who was lying sleepily in my lap looking up at us with those adorable liquid brown puppy eyes as we drove home from the breeder’s.

I wasn’t in favor of the name, but when the registration papers went in, Dammit Dog was on them. True to Roy’s prediction, Dammit did the puppy things that caused him to “earn” his name. He did the normal things — like chew on bare toes under the kitchen table at breakfast, and chew the leather off the heel of a new pair of patent leather high heels I had purchased for a company function.

Once, when I gave him a rawhide bone to chew on while I cooked dinner, I heard a strange crunching sound as he lay on the couch with his back to me. I always left my purse and keys on the end of the couch where Dammit was chewing the rawhide, so the strange crunchy sound made me stop cooking and go investigate. Dammit was chewing on the electronic key to my 4Runner. After I spent $250 for a new key, even I had to admit Dammit Dog was the perfect name for our boy.

But one time, Dammit Dog did something truly unbelievable to earn his name. We brought him to our weekend home on the river one Easter weekend. As soon as we opened the car door, he bounded out and ran over to introduce himself to our neighbor, Jack, and his German Shorthaired Pointer named Hunter. Dammit, or D-Dog, quickly won Jack’s heart and began to visit often, especially when he discovered that Jack kept dog biscuits for Hunter. Jack enjoyed Dammit’s visits and rewarded him with a biscuit every time he came socializing. D-Dog visited every chance he got — like every time our door was left open. If D-Dog was missing, invariably he was at Uncle Jack’s.

Jack also got a kick out of Hunter playing with D-Dog. Hunter was a full grown, well-trained Pointer. His head was bigger than D-Dog’s entire body. During playtime, though, Jack evened things out for the two by getting Hunter to lie down on the ground. As soon as Hunter was settled, D-Dog was on him — pulling on his floppy ears, jumping over him again and again, and grabbing Hunter’s lower lip in grand Yorkie style, shaking his head and growling, “killing” it.

Hunter bore playtime with dignity. But when enough was enough, he would merely stand up — and playtime was over. Most of the time, that worked well for everyone. Once after a couple of dog biscuits, D-Dog was just getting started playing when Hunter had decided that playtime was over and he stood up, marking its end.

Not to be deterred, D-Dog looked around for something on Hunter’s body he could grab hold of and give the “death” shake to. Then he saw it. With all the energy and enthusiasm of a puppy on dog biscuits, Dammit ran, jumped, and grabbed hold of Hunter’s dangling manhood.

Hunter just stood there with a look of hurt indignation in his eyes as Dammit hung by his needle-like puppy teeth and shook his head trying to “kill” his new toy. Good thing Jack and Hunter had a sense of humor, because it took Roy, Jack and me a couple of minutes to stop laughing and rescue Hunter.

~Janice R. Edwards

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