My Jack Russell Story:
My first years with Kirby were spent in Brooklyn's yuppie-haven, Park Slope. It is THE place to be to be seen with your dog. At the time there were only one or two JRTs in the area because breed popularity had shot up breeder fees up to $1,000 or more. My dog was a give up (free).
Kirby is handsome and he knows it. Going out was an adventure. As soon as the air hit him, his tail stood up straight, his head held high and regal, and my little ten pounder would start to strut, a la John Travolta. I wondered if the Staying Alive song I always heard when he walked was the BeeGee's singing behind us or just my imagination.
We'd begin with Kirby cooly lifting his leg while checking out the scenery searching for either prey or a person to charm. He knows when people are looking at him. One time he even stopped traffic as people pointed and laughed at the little dog with fallen branch (twice his length) proudly held between his jaws.
In addition to conceit, he is not always honest with himself about his size. I cannot count how many times I've had to quickly flee an area as my dog barked and growled, running from side to side at a Rottweiler or Boxer, or any dog with a bigger body than mine and a mouth big enough to swallow Kirby whole. Even if the dog growled back, Kirby held his ground walking away with me (he's not stupid!) with one tooth still exposed as if to say, "You're lucky my mom is making me come or you'd be chopped liver, Buddy boy!"
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