You know how lately, it’s the big trend among celebrities to have teeny tiny little dogs? Like Paris with Tinkerbell, and Britney with that really scared little chihuahua at the Billboard Music Awards (it looked completely traumatized, but then again, I probably would be too, under the same conditions). I’ve gotten so used to seeing this little dogs with their bejewled collars, and Louis Vuitton carriers, living a much more glamourous life than the rest of us could even imagine, that I’ve sort of forgotten that they are really, well, dogs. Until the other day.

Now, out here in the country, some people let their dogs run loose. I do not: we have a fence, and our dogs stay in it. When we first moved out here, there were always a lot of dogs running around, especially in the morning, when a group of them would pass through the yard at about the same time each day, not unlike the women from the neighborhood who power walk up and down the road. (Except that this seemed slightly less organized, and they were, um, dogs. But you get the idea.) Anyway, in the last couple of years, the dogcatcher has been coming around a LOT more, and most people have built fences. Every once in a while, though, you see a few dogs running free, as I did the other day.

Not only were these dogs loose, but they looked like something out of a movie. A movie like Homeward Bound, or something. Picture this: a really big, long-haired dog, a golden retriever mix, and a very small chihuahua or possibly miniature pinscher. Together. Like best friends. Big dog plods along, sniffing, small dog races ahead, then back, then ahead again. I’d seen them once, from a distance, as I sat up here writing, but the other day they were right in my backyard, sniffing around the compost heap. When they saw me standing in the window, they both looked up, all friendly, and wagged their tails.

This little dog is LITTLE. He can’t be more than eight or ten pounds, and he looks like you could scoop him up with one hand. You just don’t SEE little tiny dogs out fending for themselves that much. I mean, out here we have vultures. (No, I’m not kidding.) And hawks. When Monkey was a puppy, one of the first days we had him, I took him out in the backyard and while he was walking around (he was really little, about six pounds) I saw this big shadow, just circling overhead. Sure enough, a hawk had spotted him. After that, I made sure he was never alone outside. But this little dog seemed fearless. He did not strike me as the type to be content at the Billboard Music Awards, or wearing a cute Burberry sweater. Instead, he looked like he might, if the occasion called for it, kick your ass. My own dogs were going nuts looking out at these two, dying to get outside and sniff and bark and slobber, but I kept them in, and eventually the dogs moved on. I still can’t get over that little one, though. I mean, isn’t he worried about hawks? Guess not.

Who says living in the sticks isn’t exciting? Or glamorous? Not me…..

Have a good day everyone!