Small Dogs vs Big Dogs

To love a dog and for him to love you, you don’t need a pure breed dog and I would always encourage you to adopt!

However, before getting a dog, you have to ask yourself what are your plans with that dog. Is he going to be a worker that needs tasks? Will hey just lie around all day doing nothing? Are you planning to be one crazy dog-mum, always have your doggy near you, even when traveling?

I’m guilty on being the last one: an ultra-crazy dog-mummy. Read about how I learned to choose the kind of dog I need.

Big dogs

I grew up with dogs. Big, “real” dogs.

I loved each one of them with all my heart and I felt horrible every time I was leaving them home alone. I couldn't take them shopping with me, I couldn't take them to restaurants, not even to many coffee bars.

I could take them outside for walks but I could have never included them in my everyday life.

Except in Austria! That's the best pet-friendly country you can imagine!
I remember once going to a shopping mall with my German Shepherd-Collie mix. Brauny was the cleverest, best behaving dog ever and I was 11 and so proud of him, he was my first “only mine” dog.

My first dog, a Boxer called Tsar (Car) and mini me. He let me hold on his skin and taught me how to walk and swim.

Tzar, the Boxer, taught me how to walk and to swim

I was so happy he was allowed to go to the mall (at that time it was possible only in Austria), he was smiling his big Marilyn Monroe smile and no one was biting my head off “the dog has to stay out!”.

In the first boutique we entered, I tied him up to the fitting room entrance, while I was trying on stuff inside, with only a curtain between us.

Suddenly I heard from outside, “Nein… Noooo, you can't do that!”

I froze, it wasn't allowed to enter shops after all…?!

“Nooo, … don't leave him like that … alone!”
“But I want to try something on…”

She was already untying him.

“But there's no place to put him in with me …”
“I'll hold him for you!”

I thought I was going to cry, I was so touched! That sales lady left on the side the dresses waiting to be hanged and she was holding my smiling Brauny, while I was trying on whatever I wanted.

You can not buy everything when they make your dog smile!

Nono, the English Pointer

At some point in my life, I moved to Spain.

My English Pointer was with me while I was studying and each month I went back home to Croatia by car (1600 km) because it was too complicated and expensive to put him on a plane. Two days after we would drive back to Barcelona again.

I got hired to work each week in another part of Spain. I left Nono with my mum back in Croatia a week before I started.

My heart was broken but it got much worse when soon after he got sick and passed away far away from me. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye and that’s a wound that will never heal.

Nono, my beloved English Pointer drying after windsurfing.

My English Pointer Nono, my guardian angel

Small Dogs

I was working like crazy, I never knew in what city I was waking up, living between airports, hotels and my apartment in Barcelona. I was meeting hundreds of people who I was never going to see again and I was lonely as hell.

I didn't long for my family, or my friends, or a boyfriend… I longed for a dog! A small dog. An airplane cabin-sized dog. A dog that doesn't bark so I could hide him in business hotels, none of them pet-friendly.

While my mum was repeating to me “You can NOT have a dog at the moment! Look at the way you live!”, I was forming a crime plan in my head.

I learned which air companies didn't allow dogs at all, I stopped flying them. I find out some of them accepted dogs in the cabin if they didn't weigh more than 5 kg or 8 or 12, depending on the company…
Each time I booked a hotel, I observed their stuff. Are they too friendly? Are they too attentive? Or are they just formal, lifting their head to say “hello” but don’t care about me at all? That was the hotel I was coming back!

After a year of planning, like a professional bank robber, I had it clear: I needed a non-barking 5 kg dog … a Maltese dog!

I went back to Croatia for Christmas. One night I went out at night with my old friend. A big, strong guy, a bouncer, a Rottweiler/Pitbull kind of a guy.
It was midnight when I said to him, “you know,…? I'm miserable, I need a dog.”
He looked at me, “hmmm… how about a Maltese dog?”

How on earth did he even know anything about tiny, white, fluffy puppies?!

“Yes! A Maltese!”

He took his mobile, he called a friend, another bouncer (!)
“Do you still have some left?”
“Whom is it for? Is she a good friend? OK, I have one more, I wanted to keep him to myself. Come to pick him up. Now.”

At midnight. Right. Why should I ever do anything like a normal person?

Gucci, a Maltese, my first "pocket dog"

At 2 am I had a microscopic puppy inside of my jacket, with only his tiny head sticking out under my chin.

At 2.15 we were home, at 2.16 my mother was looking at me with her eyes like dinner plates, “you are out of your mind! HOW on earth are you going to manage a dog and your job?!”

At 9 am my mum said, “that dog is the best thing you've ever done in your life.”

At 10 am he eat her brand new Gucci reading glasses.

At 10.02 am Gucci got his name.

Gucci baby on my palm.

Gucci, my Maltese baby.

Gucci, a future frequent flyer winner

Max, a giant pretending to be a pocket dog

Years after, I met A. and his adorable, beautiful American Stanford.

Each time we left his house, taking Gucci with us and explaining to Max he had to stay home, my heart got broken into a million pieces. The look in his big, brown eyes sadly asking, “why can’t I go? What did I do wrong?”

How do you explain to a dog, “you did nothing wrong, my love, your only fault is that you are too big.”

In my head and my heart, I was committing a crime.

Max and Gucci in the mountains of Canary Islands, Spain

Max in Gucci's bed, thinking he should be treated like a pocket dog, tooMax trying to convince us he's as small as Gucci and therefore should be going places with us.

Max and Gucci, la cumbre

Max, so strong, yet so gentle

Whisky, miss Boston terrier

Many tears after Max left us, I had I serious fight with A.
He wanted to get another big dog and I growled at him like no dog ever would,

“I forbid you to get another dog who will look at us with those heartbreaking look because he is too big to go around the world with us! You'll get a pocket dog and where Gucci goes, he'll go!”
“I adore Gucci, but I don't want a … feminine dog!”
“I'll find you a scary-looking pocket dog! Just let me Google for a second!”

That was when I discovered a Boston Terrier. A “real” looking dog in small edition. A less than 8 kilograms, cabin-sized version of a Boxer.

Many tears after Max left us, I had I serious fight with A.
He wanted to get another big dog and I growled at him like no dog ever would,

“I forbid you to get another dog who will look at us with those heartbreaking look because he is too big to go around the world with us! You'll get a pocket dog and where Gucci goes, he'll go!”
“I adore Gucci, but I don't want a … feminine dog!”
“I'll find you a scary-looking pocket dog! Just let me Google for a second!”

That was when I discovered a Boston Terrier. A “real” looking dog in small edition. A less than 8 kilograms, cabin-sized version of a Boxer.

Whisky, a scary pocket dog

Whisky, a

Whisky, the Boston terrier, a non-feminine, scary looking pocket dog

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