Mock if you must, but my toy dog Colin rules

Colin may believe he is a large manly beast but being dressed in strange outfits does his street cred and confidence no good. Photo / Matt Heath

Man/schnauzer relationship has plenty of scope for humiliation.

In my column a few months back, I argued that small people shouldn't have dogs so giant they can't control them. The article was inspired by a violent encounter I had with a giant hound wrangled by a tiny woman in Mt Eden Village.

Readers were angry at me. Some still are. The other day a lady rushed me at a meatball restaurant and yelped, "People can have whatever size dog they want ... actually."

I agree. I never suggested small people shouldn't have big dogs. Just that I don't like being bitten by them.

Today I want to discuss another important dog/human size issue. Grown men, very small dogs and the humiliation that comes with the pairing.

We have all seen it - 6 foot 2 (1.8m) men walking brussels griffon toy dogs down Ponsonby Rd. It's humiliating for both dog and owner.

I should know. I have a very small dog. He's a super cute, lovable miniature schnauzer/Jack Russell cross called Colin. Sometimes I stare into his eyes, rub his chin and feel so much love I could burst. There's an evolutionary man-dog bond between us so powerful I'd do anything for the little guy. Like standing outside in the freezing cold at 5am waiting for him to do his business.

This morning, like every morning, I was out on my berm shivering in my bare feet and boxer shorts. Colin was snug and happy in his tartan hoodie jacket. He's only 6 months old and doesn't like the cold so my partner makes me put it on him.

I was really hoping no one would see me. But as usual Colin was taking his sweet time. He has a ritual. Sniffing around for a bit then doing a quick number one before stretching three times, standing completely still for ages and finally blasting out a huge number two.

This morning, he was half way between the one and the two when disaster struck. A ute pulled up right beside us. The window rolled down to reveal a couple of big dudes in safety vests. "Morning mate," the guy in the passenger seat said nicely. "Cold isn't it?" I replied awkwardly. "GIRL'S DOG!" he yelled jokingly.

They sped off into the darkness laughing. My blood boiled. I had to respond quickly ... but I had nothing. I was half nude, cold and alone with a jacketed miniature schnauzer called Colin. A weak position to mount a counter from.

Luckily, at the last possible second the perfect comeback jumped into my head. "F@#* you and your shit f@#*ing ute, f@#*wits." My words echoed out into the cold morning air. Colin did his business and I picked it up in a special little blue doggie poo bag and carried it and him back inside. Humiliation.

Colin probably wasn't feeling any cooler than me. If you've seen a small male dog hitting on a large lady dog you know they have no idea how big they are. In Colin's head he's macho. A killer. He isn't scared of anyone or anything. He doesn't know he's super cute and cuddly. He is a man's man.

Yet I have him out on the street in a tartan hoodie jacket. Sometimes a shark costume. It must be demoralising. He is at the bottom of the family pack with no chance of a status increase. He will always be the adorable fluffy little guy. If that wasn't emasculating enough, next week we plan to cut his balls off.

Humiliation.

The relationship between man and dog is an ancient one. The one between man and really small cute dog is a newer but equally strong one. Like all partnerships there are ups and downs.

But in the end, screw those dicks in their crap ute. Colin rules and I love him.