I recently adopted a tiny rescued dog named Nena. She is a Shih Tzu toy. I renamed her Miss Nena because of her elegant ways (except when it comes to food. Then she turns into a 4.5 lb. gang-banger on speed.
Not being a dog person (so sorry all you dog addicts) I took her on a trial basis. I did well resisting but, like all adorable and dependent little things who prey upon our best natures, her gooey, needy, pit trapped me. After all, she is adorable, little, and needs me. Right?
Once I accepted my fate I researched Shih Tzus and learned they were royal little doggies with an impressive history of being companion dogs in the Imperial Palace. Cultural myth depicted Buddha descending from heaven on the back of a Shih Tzu. Hmm, I better be a good doggie owner.
So here is my dream.
I dream there is a pack of dogs in the house. They are mostly little dogs racing through, like the dogs in “A Christmas Story.” Suddenly, Miss Nena is gone and I turn to my houseguest and ask, “Have you seen my dog?” My houseguest points out the window and there she is, sitting proudly on the head of a fierce red dragon as it glides by my window snorting acrid smoke. I wake up.
This article appears in Apr 1-7, 2009.