When I knocked at my friend's house, a high-pitched whine broke out.
"Sit," said my friend. A whine answered. "Taro. Sit. Stay." Another whine. "Good girl."
The door opened. A white fluffy torpedo flew out and collided happily with our shins-- drooling, panting, an explosive interest in my novel scent. The owner sighed.
"Yup," they said. "There she goes again."
Meet Taro, an eccentric Japanese Spitz, who refuses to get any bigger. Two years old and not a moment separated from her best friend, Boba, since adoption. Boba is a rescue cat--and the owner's best guess is a ragdoll/siamese cross. She's eccentric too, but the two couldn't be more different.
Taro is a pressure cooker of love that's about to explode. Meanwhile, I've been told that Boba runs on "Boba time", which is a clock that stops, goes backwards, and adheres to different timezones on a whim.
While most dogs are content to enjoy your company, Taro wishes to infuse herself with it. She can't possibly imagine something more exciting than you--yes, you!--and if she's on a leash, she'll bark aggressively until she's greeted. Since barking aggressively isn't a universal language of love, she tends to scare people away instead.
But with this intensity comes a magical companionship. I've seen the joy she inspires in her guests, and her love of play means there's never a dull moment around. With training ("Oh my god," said her owner. "So much training..."), Taro's learned to work off that excess energy herself so that love can be doled out in smaller amounts.
Boba, on the other hand, dislikes cuddles. She'll tolerate her owner, but for guests, she'll run away--at the plodding speed of a walk.
"She doesn't run," said her owner. "She's never moved fast in her life."
Not only does she lack any sense of self-preservation, she's also cross-eyed and has munchkin feet. NZ wildlife has never been safer. Unfortunately, she's known to lie down in the middle of a road and watch a car drive towards her. The owner's ensured she's now an indoor cat; for the better, too, since she's allergic to cockroaches, grass, metal, and dry kibbles. (Boba spent most of her childhood in a cone due to excess scratching.)
When she's taken out on a leash, Boba gets bullied. The neighborhood ginger, called Cookie, isn't actually so sweet when it comes to sharing territory. I have never seen this elusive Ginger Snap, but I've been told Cookie has ABS. Like a kangaroo that does boxing, a ginormous pack of abs runs down their belly like armored plates.
Don't do it, Boba. You can't even fight off your litter box.
The third dog is Mimi. Like Taro, she's also a Japanese Spitz, but unlike Taro, she grew well to the medium size that most people associate this particular breed with.
Taro loves Mimi. But Mimi, you see, loves Boba.
And Boba? She's got her eyes for Taro. She'll groom Taro all the time and even hold her head still just to keep licking it.
I've been told it's basically high school drama. Minus the head grooming (haha, unless? I'm not king shaming).