I’ve noticed a trend when it comes to little dogs: they have big mouths.

Don’t get me wrong. No dog is perfect, and Luke is certainly no angel. But the irony of being so small yet so bossy has not been lost on me after years of dog experience. Little dogs seem to overcompensate for the fact that size isn’t on their side.

“My voice matters! My voice matters! I’m going to get you! Whoa! I didn’t mean literally! Back off! I was kidding!”

Their mixed signals can be exhausting, if not confusing, especially to the Big Dog Person accustomed to a more refined point of view. Nevertheless, Luke has developed a sense of humor about his little friends, along with a gentle acceptance of their eccentricities.

“Mom, we need to go see Pebbles!”

As one might expect, Pebbles happens to be one of Luke’s smaller dog friends. A Cavachon with shaggy white hair, Pebbles moves and announces herself with the frenzy of a small motor.

“Love you, Luke! Love you, Luke! Love you, Luke! Let’s play!”

We can barely make it past her house without Luke tugging on his leash.

“I know she lives right here! Let’s stop!”

Should Pebbles be open to an impromptu playdate, Luke will perch regally at her driveway, beaming, his leonine mane puffed out while Pebbles bounces around his calmer stature. The scene resembles a page from a Winnie-the-Pooh storybook. Luke plays the part of Pooh Bear; Pebbles, the buzzing bee.

Of course, Luke knows that little dogs aren’t typically a threat—even those with the vicious snarl of Maui, the bossy Frenchie in the neighborhood.

“Tough morning, Maui? I hear you. Try to look on the bright side.”

He’ll bury his nose in the sweet scent of a grass patch and ignore the behavior. Ditto for the rattling pug who rushes to the edge of his driveway to harass us during our walks. His stout body reminds me of the chunky gold bulldog perched atop the hood of my father’s pickup truck named Red. Like the boss of that truck, the pug claims his territory.

“Go away! Get out! Get out!”

His flattened face and red-hot attitude make us smile, though I manage to stick to my training script.

“Leave it, Luke.”

Little dogs with big attitudes are part of life, Luke has learned. Usually, they are harmless.

But what happens when they become a threat—not to his size, but to his wellness?

Read on.

Luke recently attended a summer barbecue, a lakeside gathering at a home where several little dogs had arrived first and apparently decided they owned the place. Beagles and spaniels, poodles and doodles, and—most foreboding of all—Pearl, a Chihuahua wearing a miniature pink vest.

They greeted Luke’s arrival with an orchestra of untamed melody.

“You don’t belong! We were here first! We don’t like you!”

Luke, oblivious, had only one thing on his mind: THE LAKE!

He beelined through the chaos, found the water and created his own swimming oasis. Ahhh. Sweet peace.

He swam for a few quiet minutes before climbing out to dry off. After a vigorous shake, he set off to explore the boat dock.

Big issue.

Pearl stood upright at the edge, snarling and guarding with bulging, blood-shot eyes. 

“You don’t belong.”

Frustrated, Luke tried to work his way around Pearl’s wrath to reach the exquisite treasures scattered across the dock: fishing lures and one magnificent patriotic float. He sniffed with hyper-focus and poked at the float with trepidation.

“Do you move like a person?”

He investigated while an encore of barking resumed. Pearl had apparently called in the troops, creating the latest surround-sound track of We Don’t Like Luke.

It was time for Luke to chill out and rest.

I leashed him, and we made our way to the deck, where a pair of King Cavaliers protested our arrival.

“This is our space.”

We sat on a bench opposite them, and eventually they quieted. The savory scents of barbecue wafted through the air. Luke lifted his head and smiled.

Life was good.

We ate, shared easy conversation with the guests and talked about our dogs. Luke remained patient.

Until he was not.

“Summer is flying, Mom. We need to enjoy the lake because we’ll practically blink and it will be covered in ice.”

He had a point.

“Okay, Luke. You can swim again.”

I unhitched his leash, and he made his way toward the back of the house.

Pearl and her cronies stood barking like trolls.

GRRARGOUGH.

Luke had had it.

In a matter of three seconds, he became a lion leading his pride, growling and moving toward every reckless yapper. The little dogs scattered like ants beneath the rush of a garden hose. They fled with their ears peeled back, leaping into the arms of Dog Moms who cuddled and cooed over them.

Of course, I intervened. I scolded Luke and restrained him.

Thankfully, no one lost an eye.

Still, the incident got me thinking about something more serious: the importance of training every dog, regardless of size. Somehow, little dogs are often given a pass. Their lunging, barking and aggressive behavior can be dismissed as cute, funny or harmless—just because they are small. Certainly, a tiny dog cannot inflict the same physical damage as a large one.

But that doesn’t mean the behavior is without consequences.

A small dog that repeatedly lunges at or provokes a larger dog may eventually trigger a defensive reaction. And when that happens, it is often the big dog who gets blamed—even if the little dog started the confrontation.

Training isn’t about turning a small dog into a military recruit or expecting every Chihuahua to become a Zen master. It is about giving dogs the tools to navigate a world that can be overwhelming from their perspective. Training builds confidence, establishes boundaries and helps dogs—and their people—understand one another.

Luke has learned that little dogs come in many varieties. Some are Pebbles, all bouncing affection and buzzing energy. Some are Maui, all snarl and attitude. And some are Pearl, ready to defend the entire lake from an innocent visitor.

Luke, for his part, has learned that sometimes the best response is to walk away.

Apparently, he’s still working on that one.

And maybe that’s the real lesson: every dog deserves the chance to learn how to be confident without being confrontational—and every big dog deserves the chance to enjoy the lake without having to become the lion of the neighborhood.

Visit Luke on Instagram @livingwithlukevalention

Write to Amy [email protected]