When we first got our little Chihuahua fur ball with his fuzzy big ears and buggy black eyes, my father, a dog’s man, snorted and said, “You call that a dog? Bruno will have him for lunch!”
Granted, Pecos wasn’t formidable in stature but what he lacked in size he more than made up for in heart. This point was brought home to my father when Bruno, his hundred and fifty pound drooling St Bernard, was stopped dead in mid lunge for his food bowl.
It seems that Pecos fancied whatever Bruno was having. “No!” was not part of his vocabulary—in English or Spanish.
Bruno wisely decided the food wasn’t interesting enough to attack a creature 1% of his size.
At this point, my father developed a grudging respect for my miniature pugilist. “You always were small for your size yet willing to take on the world,” he noted. “Perhaps that little yapper is a good fit.”
The story continues – with the must see pictures – on the next page. Pecos is pretty darn cute, if I do say so myself!