(Angel - proud great pyrenees mountain dog)

I want points for courage, here, as I’m taking on the powerful small-dog lobby, which secretly controls Hollywood, the banks and the United Nations. 

Big dogs are a boon to mankind.  Big dogs are friends.  Big dogs share the load.  They know they’re part of the family, and their job is as sentry.  They’re comfortable with that, and competent.  They know when to be excited, and they know how to just hang out with you, companionably silent.  When they raise their big heads and look you in the eye, they say, “Yeah, I’m glad we’re pals, too.  Can I get an ear scratch or two?”  Then they go back to sleep, their softly resonant snore surely one of nature’s finest toasts to contentment and rightness in the world.

Big dogs, in short, are a gift given to us by God, or Darwin, or both, to make our time on Earth better.

Small dogs...  Small, yippy dogs.  Small, yippy, anxious, trembly dogs, well, they’re another story.  Do you know where they came from?  No, don’t rush to Wikipedia, I’ll tell you.  They were designed by bad people - biotechnologists in underground lairs – evil-doers with access to real dogs, miniaturization technology, and gene sequences that manufacture endogenous Dexedrine – people who meant the world harm.

Now I’m not advocating anything here, and I respect people who care for tiny canines.  They’re obviously good at dealing with helpless dependents and incessant, high-pitched noise.  Moreover, those small dog owners have been good for the parts of our economy involved in the manufacture of miniature animal clothing, and the treatment of ankle bites (podiatrists?).

Big dogs are proud creatures.  They know the heritage of noble wolves is in their blood.  Small dogs are not proud creatures.  They spend their days trying not to get killed by a squirrel.

Big dogs are partners in our lives, loyal, steadfast and true.  Small dogs are accessories in our lives, living “bling”, irritating and not strictly necessary.

I say, get a big dog and enrich your life.  If space is a problem, cats are fine, too.  They catch mice and chase away the small dogs.

 Note:  “Cam Battley” is a pseudonym, so please send your letters of complaint directly to my main OS blog, under the name “Joan Walsh”. 

Note:  My thanks to DogWoman for reminding me that I hadn’t yet written about dogs – an oversight on my part. 

Update:  I felt bad about not including big Russ, our Black Russian Terrier - fun loving, nosy, as athletic as a Jack Russell (but about 10 times the size).  Here he is.  (Russ is the black one.  Our son Maclain is the taller one.)

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Cam Battley lives quietly in rural Ontario, Canada.