Perhaps, he thinks she’s a toy. More, his playmate. Maybe, her diminutive size to his giant stature incites the Alpha strain in him. It could be that the attraction is in her guttural roar when the ignition key is turned. For whatever reason, our 170-lb Great Dane whose name is “Timi” has a special bond with my MG Midget.
When I bought the MG last July, I didn’t tell anyone in the family. Not my wife. Not one of my kids. It even went undetected by Timi’s sharp nose. The next morning Timi got the surprise of his life as the garage door slowly rolled up.
Timi greeted Midget with rapid-fire barking: a loud unfriendly welcome from a towering giant to a tiny stranger that quietly sat in the middle of the garage where his oversized crib used to be.
I watched and followed Timi closely as he cautiously circled the unwelcomed guest. He first sniffed her headlamp, quickly jerked his head back with a growl as if repulsed at what he smelled. He then proceeded to poke his huge head into her cockpit, ears perked while his long tail swayed like a wiper on a rainy day. Standing on all fours, his head bobs inquisitively at about the same height as the tip of the windshield.
Slowly he walked and circled the car to the passenger side where he stopped. He then lifted his left hind leg at the front wheel.
I didn’t mind that he “marked” this little intruder as I had planned a carwash that morning. What bothered me was Timi’s signature pool on the floor. I was concerned that he might turn his greeting into an everyday ritual.
These days Timi stays close to the car all day long like a big brother babysitting a sibling. But he has taken his protectiveness to an extreme: he stands right in the middle of the driveway barking adamantly to prevent me from driving his Midget down the street. Whenever I go out, Timi stays inside.
By Nestor Fernandez