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appeal to me either, although two of my daughters have lovely ones, and they were the right size. And I looked at what I call the “poo” dogs, the currently fashionable/popular combos of cockapoo, yorkiepoo, maltipoo, and a whole bunch of other “poos” that seemed unpredictable to me as to how big they would be, and what traits they would have of either breed. And I didn’t want a French poodle, which seemed too fussy to me, and they bark a lot too. And all I needed was a dog that would bark for twelve hours straight on a plane. Two of my daughters fly for work constantly and take their dogs with them, a miniature Yorkie and a teacup Chihuahua, but I still wasn’t convinced.
    I looked at a Havanese, kind of a fluffball from Cuba, and several Japanese breeds, but I didn’t fall in love with themeither. I even went completely off the deep end with a very unusual breed, a “hairless Chinese Crested,” which looks like some kind of child’s game where you put unrelated parts together. They have absolutely
no
fur, none, just skin with a lot of freckles, and at the end of their tail and on top of their head is a pouf of what looks like a bleached blond wig. It is the silliest-looking dog you’ve ever seen, and I loved the oddity of it, but it was so ugly that even I couldn’t make myself take that leap, and it was going to be too big for the airline weight limit. I’ve written about a hairless Chinese Crested in a book, and really liked the breed because it was so incongruous. But the reality was a little too extreme. On top of it they frequently lose their teeth, and their tongues hang out! I often write dogs into my books, and have some real fun with it. It can add a wonderful element to a book.
    A friend who went to a pet shop with me one day, in New York, was exasperated, and said “
What
are you looking for?” I said I didn’t know, but whatever it was, I would know it when I saw it. I knew I had to fall in love with it, because otherwise all the work, time, energy, and love I’d have to invest in it just wouldn’t be worth it. I tried to explain that to me, a dog, like a house or especially a person, has to be about “romance.” The friend rolled his eyes at me. And by then I figured that I probably wouldn’t get a dog to travel with me after all, since I hadlooked at dogs of every breed, and I was dogged (sorry!) about going to reliable pet stores and breeders I knew, and checking them out regularly for several months, but no dog had snagged my heart. Yet.
    In early November, going through New York, on my way from Paris to California, I visited a pet store where I’d bought dogs before. I looked all the dogs over and saw nothing I fell in love with and was about to leave, when one of the salesmen I know well looked at me conspiratorially and said, “Wait.” I stood there, wondering what he had in mind, nearly convinced that I’d be traveling alone forever, when he emerged with the tiniest dog imaginable in his arms. She was snow white, with enormous ears. She had ears and a face a bit like Yoda in
Star Wars
, big brown eyes, and a tiny milk-chocolate brown nose. She seemed very timid, but gazed straight at me. She weighed barely a pound, and fit in one of my hands (and I have very small hands, as I am a small person). He handed her to me, and she put her head on my shoulder and wrapped her mouse-sized paws around my neck. Bingo!!! It was love at first sight. She was a teacup Chihuahua, but small even for her breed. They said that she would weigh two or three pounds at most, full grown. She was eight weeks old. She was so tiny I was almost afraid to hold her—she looked more like a large mouse. Her ears were ridiculously oversize, and I kept remindingmyself that I didn’t want a dog that small. What if someone stepped on her? Even my daughters’ Chihuahuas were hardier, this one was so tiny. I reasoned with myself as I stood there, telling myself that I needed something sturdier to travel with,