Little Dogs, Little Gators
My step-mother had a little yorkie named Muffie. She, being a whopping 3 or 4 pounds soaking wet with a full bladder, suffered horribly from little dog syndrome.
She hadn't a clue.
There's an old saying,"If you want to run with the big dogs, you have to get off the porch." Not only did Muffie run with the big dogs, she RAN the big dogs. My parents had a big great dane, a female. The two of them would run together around the yard, the Dane above, and the Yorkie beneath her.
Muffie would yelp, and the Dane would move.
The Muff-Meister ruled.
One day, my step-mother woke up to the sound of a truck blowing it's horn right outside her bedroom. Apparantly, one of my half-sisters had let the Muffie-monster out the front door when they went to school. The garbage truck had come thru, and Muffie, all 3-4 pounds of her, was running around the truck. The driver was afraid to move for fear that he would run over the dog. Valerie grabbed a robe, and then went and grabbed the Yorkie.
Muffie strutted after that. She didn't just RUN with the big dogs...
She had caught a garbage truck.