The Small Dog Chronicles: In Good Company

The small dog enjoys mixed success socially.  She is keyed to human company. On a good day, she is a fine ambassador for her small species. On a bad one, her noisy breathing and pushy attitude drive everyone around the twist. 

Other dogs she can take or leave. When we meet dog-walking people, she is indifferent to the pet lunging at the end of its leash, barking in excitement to meet her. At the dog-park, she focuses on sniffing the perimeter, giving other dogs the cold shoulder when they bound up to say hello.  She's got a finite amount of patience with puppies, less with human children, and if given the opportunity, she would be delighted to eat any bird or horse -- or their byproducts.  

Cats are invisible to her: she will trot past a lounging cat on the sidewalk while keeping her gaze directed 90 degrees away. If the feline is especially bold and makes to touch noses, Lilly will discreetly move to the opposite side of my legs, leaving me to fend for myself.

We travelled en suite with the small dog recently. I've hosted visiting dogs and their people often enough to understand why people bring their dogs when leaving home. Still, having not had a dog of my own since college, it was my first experience of carting a possibly unwanted four-legged family member along to the party.  

She did not embarrass us too much: she did steal the really luxe dog-bed from Velma and Daphne when she had the chance. She did insist on being hoisted up onto someone else's couch -- but at least she did not, as she does at home, scuff up a nest before falling asleep. She made some noise with her hosts' dogs and was entirely ready to half-inch the other dogs' food -- but on the plus side, she did a bang-up job of spit-polishing other people's kitchen floors. 

She waited patiently (i.e. snoozed and snored) in the truck while we went to restaurants.  There were no "accidents." There was no vomit. And that, for traveling pet-owners, is the new good.