Great Danes As Chick Magnets
As our dog Moab ages, I think back on many of the dogs we’ve had. Recently, Debi and I reminisced about Sasha, a Harlequin Great Dane we got when Tyler was in elementary school. (“Honest, Mom, I’ll feed her,” said Tyler. “Every day.”) She was a sweet dog, and she shared some wonderful times and moments with the family during the ’90s.
Walking Sasha always invited reactions from other pedestrians and even some passing motorists. “Hey! Is that a dog … or a horse?” Ha, ha, ha. I never could figure out whether I should humor them by reacting as if I never heard that before. Or shame them with an eye roll clearly accusing them of lameness and losertude.
Debi and I used to comment that Sasha was a “chick magnet” — because invariably attractive women would stop, compliment the dog, strike up a conversation and be friendly. I offered to loan Sasha to some of my single male friends, suggesting they could meet women outside of the meat-market bar scene. They politely declined. (I suspected that, on the inside, they were rolling their eyes at my suggestion. Oh, well.)
Then, today, walking in San Francisco, I saw a guy walking a Great Dane, stopped at light. I was set to tell him about Sasha and ask him whether his dog was also a chick magnet, when this happened:
Nuf said?