Lately, I have been seriously thinking about getting a dog. Ashley and I both love admiring them–on the streets, at the dog parks–and would love to own one. If I had a big place, with a big back yard, I think I’d like a brown and white English Pointer. But given that we live in a 12th floor, studio apartment in New York City, we need a small dog.
We’ve coveted Boston Terriers, French Bulldogs, King Charles Spaniels,and the miniature greyhounds I call prancers, among others. Recently, a dark horse, so to speak, has been catching my attention… a Yorkie. For years now, I’ve thought they looked ridiculous; but seeing them in New York makes me think twice. They really are quite cute, and
there is so much personality in such a little package. More than that though, they would be so convenient; Yorkies don’t shed, they hardly eat anything, and they hardly take up any space–our apartment would be huge for them. During the week, it could could get by with short (by our standards) walks. Then, on the weekend, when we go on super-long walks, as we often do, I could just carry it if it were tired. But while its tiny frame gives it so many advantages, therein is also the greatest barrier to my owning one. At 6 foot 8 inches tall, the two of us would look completely ridiculous together. And I don’t think I could expect people not to take notice of us. To be honest, I think if I saw an abnormally tall man like myself walking with a ridiculously small dog like a Yorkie, I would point and laugh.
Until I get over my self-consciousness, and until Ashley and I are truly ready to take the plunge, I’ll just have to content myself with admiring other dogs. More on this later!
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