As a kid and even as a young adult, I tended to like bigger dogs. Now that I’ve reached the ripe old age of 50, I’m really beginning to like the idea of having a smaller dog like my good buddy, Rookie, hanging around all the time.

This little bichon frise came into my family’s life a couple of years ago and he’s become a real member of the family or at least he thinks he’s one of us. He’s sure treated like a family member most of the time, except when I step on him when I make a visit to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

He has his bad days, but don’t we all.

And many of my younger friends and family members tend to make fun of him. Some even have picked up the strange idea that Rookie is actually a member of the cat family.

But he’s loyal and he actually thinks his as big as the rest of the dogs in the neighbor. We don’t  tell him any different because he thinks he’s protecting us. we don’t want to hurt his feelings.

A story I’m working on right now points out how valuable even a small dog can be. The story is about a little  chihuahua, Stella, who wakes up her owner in time for her to discover a kitchen fire in her neighbor’s apartment. Stella saves the day.

It’s something I would like to think Rookie would do for us if the need ever arises.

Go Dog Go