The Inevitable End of the Big Dog Era

I’m not as strong and balanced as I once was

“Where is he?” the woman sitting on the concrete wall asked as I passed.

I stopped. Her words shocked me.

This was the same woman, Glenda, who had been angry at me for months regarding an incident related to my dog, Tex.

Fortunately, her anger had resolved.

She was the first person who had asked about Tex. Seattlelites tend to be polite and often distant. Probably no one wanted to upset me I’d much prefer to make a heartfelt connection with a neighbor like Glenda.

Talking to her made me weepy. We had a nice conversation and exchanged names and the streets we lived on.

She introduced me to her constant companion dog, Clark.

As I age, I have to do an associative trick, linking the person or a pet to someone with the same name. Or I think of a present or past actor or film character with that name.

With the woman, it was easier. Her name, Glenda, was the same as a former boss. I linked Clark to Clark Kent — a journalist for the fictional Daily Globe who transformed into Superman whenever the planet was in danger.

Glenda had rescued Clark from an adoption agency. She thought he might be a cocker spaniel mixed with a terrier.

I was so inspired by finally having a compassionate face-to-face conversation with Glenda that I took a longer walk than usual — down to the lake and home.

Clark seemed like the kind of dog I’d consider down the road. I was still in the process of accepting reality. l Small dogs were easier to handle. They were also less likely to pull a person off balance., resulting in injuries that took months to heal.

I’d probably never again have a big dog.

Over the last twenty years, I’ve consistently had larger dogs. They offer more protection — especially when walking at night.

In my case, at night Tex was my biggest danger., I fell most often at night because Tex lunged at skateboarders, scooter riders, and other abrupt surprises.

Upon reflection, I remembered my all-time most beloved dog, Cosmo. He was my favorite childhood companion. A badass Manchester Terrier. — able to dig under any fence to escape.

My sister recently reminded me about Cosmo’s digging obsession. We were discussing the ideal smaller dog.

Cosmo roamed wherever he pleased. He never was captured by the SPCA. I don’t recall him ever being leashed either. He instinctively heeled when he walked beside a family member. Otherwise, he was free-spirited.

I miss Cosmo differently than other beloved dogs that have died. He used to come find me in my elementary school. Remembering Cosmo re-enforces the truth that small dogs are viable, loyal companions.

I won’t start looking for another dog in earnest for several months.

Re-homing a dog feels so different than losing a dog when it dies. Re-homing is not a final thing. I enjoy thinking of Tex running around his new owner’s large, fenced yard. He can hunt freely for rats, voles, and squirrels. I hope he doesn’t catch all the varmints he chases — except for the rats.

If you have any suggestions for small dogs let me know.