I hate small dogs. Most of them are ugly, they get spoiled by their owners, and they have terrible attitudes as a result. I hate people that have all of these characteristics, too. I’m not going to limit my hatred to humans.
There are some small dogs I know and knew personally who are and were absolutely great. We all know small dogs like that. However, there are tons and tons and tons of small dogs that thrive on being the worst. I wrote this after walking through a park and seeing a small dog annoying a big dog.
I don’t mean to come off as mean in this story. I don’t mean to come off as mean right now either. My intention with this story is to be funny — perhaps like a standup routine? Whether or not that works is obviously up to you. If it’s not working and you want to get back at me, send me pictures of your small dogs in the comments below. Prove me wrong. Turn me into a small dog lover.
If you’re interested in a good dog book, you can try Following Atticus by Tom Ryan. I haven’t read it, but it got my girlfriend who isn’t a big reader addicted almost immediately. Atticus and his owner climb every mountain in New Hampshire. Atticus also happens to be a “small dog” who doesn’t suck, so if you’re curious, like me, to find out what that means, go check it out.
Why do small dogs insist on making the lives of big dogs so much harder? There has to be an evolutionary trait where small dogs are aware of their size: a Napoleon complex, but for dogs. They have to believe big dogs are up to something sinister people simply can’t pick up on, otherwise why else would they be so insistent on protecting their owners?
It’s always the same scenario: there’s a big dog on a leash in a beautiful park with its owner, minding its own business. A small dog with their oblivious owner sees this and pauses before their owner yanks them forward unaware of the situation unfolding just beyond the screen of her iPhone.
The small dog begs the big dog to come over to sniff its ass. The big dog, confident and aloof, takes the bait. And you guessed it: the small dog gets mad, forgetting why the big dog is here, and snaps. It knows something is horribly wrong. Perhaps the small dog is trying to make up for the mistake it made. Maybe they’re like my father who panics when there’s nothing to panic about.
Now the big dog, surrounded by other big dogs, is aware it’s being watched. He and the other dogs are constantly competing for prime real estate in the park, pissing on everything they see. If the other dogs see the big dog can’t get the small dog to back down, the big dog will never be able to show its face in the park again.
So the big dog growls when the small dog comes in closer. It’s ready to prove to its owner that it will not be intimidated by anyone. What would be the point if it couldn’t protect its owner? Who else will feed it and rub its belly on the couch it’s not supposed to be on?
The big dog is fully triggered now, and they’re both trying to bite each other. Their owners are now involved. Everyone’s trying to gain the upper hand over each other. “You need to do a better job training that thing,” the big dog’s owner yells.
“You just have to have a big dog, don’t you?” the small dog’s owner yells back.
“What exactly are you compensating for?”
“Arghh!” growls the big dog.
“Ruff!” the small dog snaps.
And within seconds, it’s all over. Everyone’s made their point. The sun is still beautiful. There’s still three-quarters of the path to walk around, and there are plenty of dogs that will get their chance to prove themselves to both the big and small dog. Life goes on.
If you have a rebuttal to my story, and wish to let the world see it, look at my submission guidelines and send me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’m not picky when it comes to theme or genre, so send me stuff that isn’t dog-related as well.