Moss Ray...what can you say about a dog that weighs less than 10 lbs but thinks he's 10 feet tall and bullet proof?  Of course, I've never met a little dog yet that didn't think it was a big dog, nor a big dog that didn't think it was a lap dog.

Moss is named after football player Randy Moss, and is the "granddoggy" of one of my coworkers.  He is, in a word, rotten.  When he first came to my house, he came right to me, crawled up on my shoulder, and went sound asleep while his owner and I got acquainted.  She told me - say it with me now - he'd never done that before.  Chihuahuas are notoriously not real "people" dogs and are very persnickety about who they will take up with, but he and I hit it right off.  Unfortunately, my parents (who love dogs almost as much as I do) have barely managed to pet him, even after the number of times I've kept him.  Oh, he wil accept treats...but that's it, even if I'm holding him.

He also likes to be the "only child" when he comes to visit.  Imagine his surprise and dislike when he got met at the door by a group I called the Thundering Herd...two Yorkies and an o'cherise who were "brothers and sister." 

Their thought:  Yay, somebody our size to play with! 

His thought:  OMG...THREE of them...AND THEY'RE COMING RIGHT AT ME!!!

I am pleased to report that after a few hours together they all got along famously.  He even took a typical male interest in the female Yorkie.  I warned him when I saw the bright eyes, stiff legs, and perked up ears...don't do it, dude. she'll take you out.  And if she won't, she has two brothers who will!  He didn't listen.  Miss Thing (her real name is Polly) let him know in no uncertain terms his attention was NOT wanted.

He and the boys played chase games most of the time.  I think at first he was truly running away, but they took it as a game.  When he finally realized they weren't going to attack him, he relaxed and got into the game also.  Thank goodness they didn't want to play fight, which they loved to do with each other.  He just stood and watched when they did that, with a look on his face that said "What the heck are you doing?!"

Moss is also a master sneak.  When I had my precious Dido, he was more than willing to share his home, his toys, his bones, and even some time with me.  The one place where he drew the line was sleeping in the bed with me. Only HE got to do that.  Since he was such a gracious host, I helped him to enforce that rule.  Only Moss ever got past him.  He'd wait till Adidas was asleep, then creep up under the blanket and sheet one tiny foot at a time and curl up between my feet.  If Adidas woke up and caught him in the bed, he'd chase him out, and Moss would always go without complaint...until Adidas fell back to sleep and the whole cycle started over again.  Adidas finally (begrudgingly) gave in and let him in the bed, provided he went to the far corner and curled up in the tiniest spot possible.  Which Moss did...till Dido fell asleep.  Hey, he's a Chihuahua, he got cold unless he was under the covers!

As promised, here's the scoop on Isaac the therapy dog.  He's a Newfoundland, and in spite of his size (175 lbs), he is not only a big marshmallow but is hilariously afraid of rolling carts. He will try to squeeze into the tiniest space to hide from the Evil Cart as it rolls by.  Never mind he could eat it for an afternoon snack!  His hair is so soft and flowing.  A woman could be jealous of hair like that!  A true gentle giant.  As he lumbers down the hall, his hair floats, almost like it's in a cloud surrounding him instead of being attached to him.  For his sheer size alone, even staff who know none of the other therapy dogs know Isaac.  They can't talk about him at all without a big smile on his face. 

This week I met a third therapy dog, Sierra.  She is a 10-year-old Alaskan Malamute.  HUGE dog (127 lbs), but totally, totally sweet.  She will lie down to have a tummy rub if you show the slightest interest in giving her one.  I had pictured the breed about the same size as other shepherds, but she was way bigger than that.  Very broad at the shoulders, huge feet and legs as big around as a Pringles can.  It was another case of her walking up to me and pressing against me, as if we'd known each other forever.  She was shedding a lot, but I didn't mind.  That's why God invented washing machines!

Monday was also the 3rd anniversary of the passing of my darling Adidas.  I still miss my boy soooo much.  Had to fight tears all weekend prior to also.  I still tell him and my shepherd mix Skippy, who are buried in a memory garden in my backyard, to "Hold down the fort, boys, Sissy'll be back," every morning as I leave, and greet them with "Sissy's home, boys!" each afternoon when I get back.  And I can't see a snowfall without thinking immediately, "Skippy would've loved it, Adidas would've hated it!"

Next Tuesday I get to keep one of my "regular clients" again, a tiny white Chihuahua named Moss Ray, after the NFL player Randy Moss.  So next time...all about the Moss-man!