"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog." -- Mark Twain
I've been thinking of getting another dog. This past October my place was burgled twice. Burglaries in Chicago don't take precedence with an understaffed, overworked police force. My 911 calls were transferred to the non-emergency line where a report of what was stolen was taken over the phone. A week or so later, the paperwork arrived by mail. It didn't do much to make one feel safe and secure.
I've since changed the locks, added new outdoor lighting, reinforced all doors and will soon have some new windows, but still, I don't have that comfy feeling that should come with being home. The first break-in occurred in my garage while I was at home working in my basement studio. I didn't hear a thing. Evidently, neither did Josie or Jack as they blissfully snoozed through the entire event. The fact that I didn't hear a thing isn't too surprising given that my neighbor had his electric saw buzzing at full volume every few minutes, but neither of the dogs heard the garage door being smashed in. And when I say smashed, I mean smashed. The wooden door frame was in tatters. It took some serious force to do it, which is evidenced by the footprints embedded in the door.
So I'm thinking about a bigger dog or at least one that is less inclined to roll over and beg for a belly rub from any and all. Gerttie, the schnauzer of schnauzers was my faithful companion for 16 years. When just 4 months old she awoke to sounds on my old back porch. She stood at the door, barking and growling with all her might. She didn't stop until the police arrived. One break-in averted.
Somehow she could always sense the good guy from the bad guy. This capability extended to her opinion of my various boyfriends. One fellow she disliked to the extent of pooping in his boot. That's right, she shimmied her tushy over the boot's edge and left her calling card. The next morning Gerttie dove under the couch just as the boyfriend was getting dressed. I swear that dog was snickering as he hopped around yelling his head off.
No dog could ever replace Gerttie, but I'm think of a giant schnauzer which would have the general tenacity of the breed, but also some heft. They weigh in around 70 pounds. I wonder if Jack's napoleonic tendencies could deal with another dog, especially one that could squash him like a bug. You know those old film noir movies in which the big guy does all the dirty work while the short guy is the brains of the group? Somehow I could see that being the scenario in this household.