When I was young I always hounded my parents to have a dog. Me, being the youngest of six, kept nagging all the time until finally when I was 9, my sister, the oldest by 10 years, said she would get a dog and take it with her if she ever got married or left home. Of course I was hoping for a big dog and she brought home this little mongrel breed dog and she named it Schnooks of all things for a male dog. What sort of a name was that?

Well this little mongrel breed, or a bitsa, as dad would say when asked what type of breed he was  (a bitsa this and a bitsa that) became my best friend ever. He would go everywhere with me, follow me on my morning paper round, or when I went bike riding or to the park to kick the footy. Consequently he became my dog and when my sister got married and moved out of home he stayed with me.

 Schnooks was as smart as a whip. One morning on my paper-round he crossed a busy main road just as a big truck came down it. I yelled to him stop, I thought I'd lost him as the truck drove straight over the top of him, but after it passed, here was Schnooks crouched down in the middle of the road letting the truck pass safely over the top of him. In secondary school mum always new what time it was in the afternoon, as Schnooks would always run down to meet my train as it was pulling into the station. I used to joke with some of my friends and tell them to jump down off the platform and see if they could get back up, then tell Schnooks "don' let him up". Schnooks would growl, bark and snap aggressively at my friend who would run up and down the train tracks trying to get up, but Schnooks wouldn't let them. Unbeknown to my friends Schnooks would never bite them, but he looked viscous. A young black male labrador across the road at the local park didn't like Schnooks and always tried to attack him, but Schnooks was too smart for him. He would roll over onto his back bite the labs neck and scratch at his testicles with his hind legs.  Another time a not so nice friend of one of my older brothers was playing tug of war with Schnooks using an octopus strap, stretching it and letting it go to hit the dog. Well he did it twice, then on the third time as the strap was being stretched you could almost see a smile come on Schnooks face when he let it go and the strap hit my brother friend right between the legs.

We had that dog for 17 wonderful years and I could go on and on telling stories about him and how much joy he gave me and the family, hence the beginning of my love for small dog breeds.




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