A Big Dog Called Tiny

Cocoa gave birth to her large litter of puppies. No one thought about spaying or neutering in 1973 rural Texas. To have a female dog meant puppies would eventually come along. That meant finding homes for all of them, an easy task in a place where people had acres of land. Dogs were needed to help round up livestock or patrol fences.

Cocoa was our family's dog when I was three years old. Almost all her puppies had found new families with one small exception. One little male puppy, the runt of the litter, had been passed by time and again. He was small. He was not particularly good looking. That didn't matter to me - I loved him with all the intensity in a little girl's heart. My parents knew the little puppy was staying with us and soon he answered to a little girl's name for him: Tiny.

Tiny became my constant companion. He followed me indoors and outdoors. There was a lot of outdoors to explore. Our family lived on a couple acres of land. Across the back of our property, over a wire fence, was our neighbor's cattle ranch. My parents had a big garden to tend. I had a swing set, playhouse and sandbox to keep me occupied.

Tiny was a gentle dog with me. I never intentionally hurt him but I was as rambunctious as any preschooler. He seemed to understand when my petting got too rough that I didn't mean him any harm. He tolerated my attempts to take care of him with my toy doctor kit. He wore doll hats. He listened patiently as I prattled through my day.

Tiny was my self-appointed guardian. For all that he was mellow with me, he could be ferocious if he thought I was threatened. Strangers to our home had to go through Tiny to get to me! He would scold me if he thought I was doing something dangerous. He made sure I never got too close to the street and he would tattle on me by barking for my parents' attention. My mom called Tiny my babysitter. She knew I was safe when Tiny was with me.

When Tiny wasn't with me, his favorite place to be was the neighbor's cattle ranch. No one trained him but Tiny had a natural ability to herd cattle. He would jump the fence then round the cows into a huddle, barking and nipping to keep them in place. The neighbor would call my parents to get Tiny because the cows were supposed to be free to graze the land. My parents had an ongoing battle with Tiny to keep him off the ranch.

Tiny was no longer so tiny. He had grown into a big, muscular young dog. He was larger than Cocoa, his mother. Neither Cocoa or Tiny were a particular breed. They were all mutt. Tiny's fur was a mottled mix of brown, white and black. His ears were large and his tail was long. He grew until we could see eye to eye when both of us were standing.

Another year went by and I was on the way to my sandbox while my mom got some work done elsewhere in the yard. As usual, my canine companion followed along. Suddenly, his behavior changed. He placed himself between me and the sandbox. He barked. He growled. When I kept heading for the sandbox, he grabbed my shirt with his teeth and dragged me away.

My mom heard the commotion. She rushed over. I was crying, Tiny was growling. I was so mad that Tiny would do this to me I pummeled Tiny's head with my little fists. Tiny whimpered a bit but wouldn't let go, yanking me almost to the ground.

Fears that the dog had gone mad flitted into my mom's head. She knew Tiny would be a formidable enemy if he turned on us. She chastised Tiny, trying to get him to let go of me but Tiny stood his ground. During the chaos, she looked down into my sandbox. There she saw a large scorpion. Texas has a reputation for doing things big and this scorpion, tail poised to strike, certainly was Texas-sized.

Mom realized Tiny was trying to protect me. She praised the dog and gently pulled me away. Tiny relinquished his grip. Once we were all safe and the scorpion dealt with, Tiny was the hero of the day. Did he save my life? That depends on how powerful the scorpion sting would have been. Generally, Texas scorpions aren't considered deadly but I was still quite young at the time. Tiny did save me from a lot of pain no matter what the cost to him.

Tiny and I were not fated to stay together. More time went by and my dad received a job offer in another state. We were moving from country life into the suburbs. A big dog like Tiny simply wouldn't be happy there. My parents talked with our ranch neighbor. He said Tiny would make a good cattle dog and Tiny was still young enough to train. He would give Tiny a new home. Tiny would be allowed to chase the cows to his heart's content. Maybe that would make up for not being able to follow around a little girl on her adventures around her yard.

We heard about Tiny one more time. Our former neighbor told us Tiny was one of the best dogs he ever had on the ranch. Tiny had been such a little puppy no one, except me, had wanted him. His years watching over me gave him time to grow and prove his strength and intelligence. We spent our formative early years together and both of our lives were better because of it.