Early one morning recently my better-than-standard poodle, George, and I entered the off-leash dog park for our morning jaunt and passed an obviously frazzled younger woman and her dogs on their way out.
She had a small dog under one arm with its tail facing up and forward. Her sweatshirt was soaked on one side from having struggled with a dog fresh out of the pond. She put the dog down for a moment to pass the time of day with me and get her hair back into its pony tail and out of her eyes.
The little dog was about 15 pounds and had an attractive long reddish-brown coat. Her little black eyes shown with pure mischief. “I think she’s half long-haired Dachshund and half Chihuahua,” her owner smiled ruefully. “I live in the apartments next door and bring her out two or three times every day to get her acquainted with the other dogs, but we never get to stay very long. She always heads for the biggest dog in the park and picks a fight. I just pulled her off two Rottweilers.”