Having a small dog is not like having a medium or large sized dog.

Gus is the first small dog Maria or I have ever owned or lived with, and one of the reasons I wanted a small dog was to understand why the experience is so meaningful to many millions of people, including big strong men who eschew emotion and displays of affection.

I wanted to write about the small dog experience, and the best way to do this is to simply share my thoughts and observations about it as they occur to me.

First off, small dogs are….well, small. My small dog can’t run as far or fast as the border collies or Labs I am used to. He can’t plow into tall grass or dense foliage (he can hide in there.)

I believe they have opened up my nurturing instincts and Maria’s, in part because they are so small and seem so vulnerable, even if they aren’t as vulnerable as they look

Small dogs replicate the experience of having a human baby, they love to be held and can be rocked to sleep. I can anesthetize Gus is one second by rubbing his belly .

I dislike the word, but words are truth for me, and the truth is, Gus is cute. He is, in fact adorable in ways that larger breeds and dogs, even puppies,  are not.

Small dogs are not dignified, like Labs, or storied, like border collies. They are inherently ridiculous, and that is what makes them appealing.

Gus is endowed with a small body – he will get bigger than this – but an outsized personality. He has enormous confidence and great survival instincts. He has begun tormenting Fate, barking at her, challenging her to play and stealing her toys, but only when there are convenient places to hide – under sofas and chairs, behind my legs, next to Red, his protector.

Gus is not an outdoor dog, really.

He can move fast and the breed is known for hunting rats and rodents,  but given a choice, he would rather be inside chewing or napping in one of his many safe places. Gus has made himself at home in the space between two crates, underneath the desk in my study, on a pillow in Maria’s studio.

He bark at Fate when he wants to play, but so far, he hasn’t barked at anyone else.

Every morning, we walk up a mile-plus long hill and for Red and Fate, it barely counts as exercise. They can run all day without tiring. This walk exhausts Gus, when we get home, he runs to my study and curls up on his cute little bed. Gus would be a perfect Brooklyn dog, although there, I see that they seem to love big outdoor dogs that ought to be in the country.

I have always avoided small dogs as being ugly, useless, yippy or too custom-made for laps and hugging.  I associate them with people who emotionalize their dogs and see them as furbabies. I don’t want to do that, but I see how easy it is to slip into that way of thinking.

Gus is not like that. He is not our lap dog. He can occupy himself, we don’t put him in our laps, he seems to have what I can only call a sense of humor, every time I look up, he is hauling a giant toy of Fate’s around the living room and daring her to come get it. He loves to chew things and explore, and he loves to sit on the floor next to us quietly while we read or talk or stream mysteries.

When we settle in, he settles in, and he is only about ten weeks old.

Red accepted him instantly, Red is like that, but Fate didn’t quite get he was a dog at first, she wasn’t sure whether to herd him or eat him. He straightened her out.

Gus will follow us almost anywhere and has no need for a leash. And he was housebroken two days after we got him.

He also loves to go and sit quietly in his crate and chew things or meditate on being a dog.  I’d say at this point he is more attached to Maria than me, but by a thin margin, he loves everybody in the house, dog and people, and every person he sees or meets.

He’s been here two weeks, but we have no real problems or complaints about him.  He’s a great pup and has brought us love and joy.

He is a member of the family, he has fit himself right in, even among the strong individuals who live here. Maria is delighted with him, he just lights her up.

Gus eats sparingly, his dumps are almost too small to bother to pick up and he is very bright. So far, he has chewed on nothing that is not his. I see why the big men in trucks love these small, they can go anywhere with them, they love to ride in cars and are, like border collies, eager to come along.

They open up the closes parts of us, nourish our better instincts, inspire nurturing and make us laugh. And Gus loves in that unconditional way humans so crave. Good reasons to love a dog.