Thank heaven for little dogs...or not.

I know, two posts in as many days. Don't get excited, I promise I won't make a habit of it.

And in case any of you were waiting breathlessly about the yard fungus, well, let's just say that wild mushrooms don't freeze well. Alien invasion averted by a characteristic January cold snap. For now.

Most of you know my little dog Flip. He's so old he creaks when he walks. He has 4 teeth left in his head which causes his tongue to dangle out one side of his mouth. He has cataracts in both eyes. He is going deaf. He sleeps all the time, especially when I'm not around. When I'm around, he licks the couch or wanders around asking when the next ship to Tokyo leaves. He's never even been there.

That being said, feeding time is a literal mess. It looks something like this:
Flip eats so slowly that there's time to drive downtown, get a high colonic, and drive back all light and airy while he finishes. While he's smearing food all over the floor and getting at least some of it in his mouth, Zoe is rigid with excitement waiting for him to finish. In about 30 seconds flat, she swoops in
and cleans the entire floor. She's better than a Scooba.

I've always wanted a real dog. Like a greyhound or mastiff or something. But having spent a little time with 3 very loving dobermans, I've decided it's better to have little dogs. The dobies were sweet and wonderful, but they smoosh you when you try to sit on the couch. Literally.

Consider the way little dogs snuggle with you at night. Zoe is the best little hot water bottle around. Or consider the way she barks her fool head off at any perceived intrusion. Better than a burglar alarm. She also travels well and fits in a medium-sized handbag. And her tiny little poos. You won't get that from a big dog. That's why it's better to have little dogs. So says me.