Developed in the United States in the 1930s, the American Toy Terrier is descended from the Smooth Fox Terrier. Other breeds used in the development of the Toy Terrier include the Chihuahua, the Italian Greyhound, the Manchester Terrier, and the Miniature Pinscher. This breed wasn't officially recognized until 2003, so it actually goes by many names. It can be called the Toy Fox Terrier or the Amertoy, depending on the association involved.
The Toy Terrier has a distinct appearance. The nose should be black for all dogs except those of chocolate coloring (these dogs should have chocolate noses). Eyes are dark, round, and set forward on the head. Ears are v-shaped and erect. The muzzle should be fairly small and narrow. The tail has traditionally been docked at birth, but since this procedure is illegal in much of Europe, and frowned upon in many other countries, it is becoming less common as time goes on.
The coat is typically short and quite thick, which makes it easy to groom. Most Toy Terriers are tri-colored, usually white with tan or black and tan markings. Other colors can and do appear, but not all colors are accepted by all associations. Regardless of association, this tiny breed should weight no more than 7 pounds and stand about 10 inches high.
They may be small, but they're very much like their Fox Terrier ancestors. They're smart, tough, and are prone to fits of stubbornness. Though generally curious, active, and pleasant, this small breed can be a bit of a fighter. They're natural hunters, so expect them to go after mice, rats, and generally anything that's small and mobile. And once they're hunting, they won't stop until they catch their prey.
But the American Toy Terrier is more than just a hunter. They're also intelligent enough to learn just about any trick, sensitive enough to respond to your moods, and loving enough to be a friend through thick and thin. And you'd be hard pressed to find a more loyal canine. In general, this is a wonderful breed with a few little quirks.
Like many small breeds, the American Toy Terrier has its own set of health problems. Some dogs are prone to Legg-Calvé-Perthes, which involves spontaneous degeneration of the head of the femur bone. Others suffer from allergies, commonly to wheat, corn or beet pulp. Because of very short hair, this breed can't tolerate the cold, so get a dog sweater for your canine companion.
If you're looking for an energetic dog who will never leave your side, the American Toy Terrier might be for you.
My oldest son, who is now 9, recently suffered a great loss. His baby, a small black Poodle he's had since he was 3, was killed a little over a month ago. He was quite naturally devastated, and he cried for days. But, like most little boys who need dogs for companionship, Tristan soon started asking about a new puppy. It's not that he was over Brownie. Far from it. It's just that he NEEDS a dog. It's a part of who he is. Like his glasses or his medic ID bracelet. A small dog running at his heels makes him complete, and going through the summer without a puppy was going to be hard.
And thus began our search for a dog. Since it was going to be Tristan's dog, and he was going to be the one looking after this dog, it only made sense that he get to choose. The first thing he wanted me to look for was a small black Poodle, boy or girl, as long as it looked like Brownie.
I'm not that stupid, so relax. I didn't go out and get a small black Poodle he could call Brownie. But I also didn't want to refuse out of hand. Here's where his desire for a purebred Poodle comes in handy. You don't go out and pick up a purebred, show quality, Toy Poodle from your local shelter. It just doesn't work that way. It can take months, sometimes a year, before that perfect Poodle shows up.
What did this mean for me? Well, it meant that I could help him search for a puppy in a convincing manner without committing to a black Poodle. So we searched for a while, looked at pictures of dogs that might have black puppies, and cried quite a bit for Brownie. Tristan cried every night for 2 weeks, actually, which I had expected. He was grieving.
So a little time passed, only a couple weeks really (though it seemed longer), and we were still looking at puppy pictures. I know my son, and I knew he'd do a flip flop on me. And he did. One afternoon, as he was browsing yet another breeder's website, he turned to me and said, "I don't want another Brownie. I want something small and sweet and not black. Or brown. That would remind me of Brownie too much."
That was the sentence I'd been waiting for. I'd known he'd want a Poodle, but not one exactly like his baby. So we discussed it in detail. He was fine with any color that wasn't black or brown, but he wanted a little girl, and he wanted it smaller than Brownie had been. She'd been 8 pounds all soaking wet, not exactly large, so smaller came as a surprise. 6 pounds is what he'd decided he wanted.
To be frank, that size made me a little nervous, but it wasn't my dog. I wasn't the one who would have to feed her. I wasn't the one who would have to carry her outside, or put her in my bike basket when her little legs couldn't keep up. Tristan had been doing all these things since he was 3. He could do them at 9. Not my dog. Not my call.
So now we had a real description of the dog he might want. At this point, I called the breeder who had bred Brownie all those years ago. As soon as I told her what had happened, and as soon as I gave her Tristan's wish list, she told me she had two girls who might be pregnant with puppies who might fit his needs. We'd have to wait and see.
But just knowing a puppy might be born soon was enough to lift Tristan's spirits. Not completely, and he continues to grieve for Brownie, but he's getting better. And having to wait for a puppy is good for him. It allows him to finish grieving while knowing there's a light at the end of the tunnel.
And that light is enough for now.
We recently suffered a canine loss on our family. My son's dog Brownie was killed on the highway at the end of June. It was the greatest tragedy my 9-year-old had ever experienced because of the close relationship he had with her. They were each other's everything. They played together, ate together, sang together, watched TV together, went camping together, and slept together for 6 years. They were only apart when he went to school or went to visit his father for an afternoon. He even took her shopping with him, and not just at pet stores. They really were two of a kind. She was his best friend, baby, and confidant all rolled into one.
And then that Sunday in June hit. It was the last Sunday of the month, and it dawned bright and sunny. But, because it was Sunday, most of us weren't awake. Unbeknownst to us, a series of unrelated events were about to occur that would lead directly to Brownie's death. My youngest son was the only one awake, and the dog had to go out. Instead of waking my oldest son, as he had always done, he decided to let his brother's dog out into the dog run. What he didn't know was that the fence was down and Tristan had been taking the dog out the front. Tristan would sit on the deck and wait for her, never taking his eyes off her wiggling form.
Rowan, unfortunately, didn't know that. He put the dog in the dog run like a good brother would do. After that we have to piece together what happened from the bits and pieces of information we have gathered. As near as we can tell, Brownie was in the yard for 3 hours before she saw a neighbor jogging down the street. There are no sidewalks where we live, so the shoulder is where we jog. Now Brownie, being naturally social, decided to go with said neighbor. The neighbor saw her and welcomed the company. But it only lasted a moment because people speed on our road. By a lot.
They were jogging together when a car slowed behind them. I'd slow down too if there was a jogger and a little dog on the side of the road. The car behind, however, didn't share the sentiment. It sped up, whipped around the first car, pulled over too far, got caught on the soft shoulder, and hit Brownie and nearly hit the neighbor. Everyone but the speeding idiot stopped, which is obviously how we found out.
So now I'm faced with telling a 9-year-old his dog has passed away. He didn't scream or yell, he just curled up and cried silently into his hands. It broke my heart. I'd lost my own dog 5 years earlier, so I knew something of what he was going through, and I knew there was nothing I could do for him. I couldn't fix it, and that's hard for a mother to accept.
But accept it I had to, because there was nothing else I could do. We did rescue Brownie's collar, which Tristan wore as a bracelet for a few days. Then he asked me to buy a stuffed toy that looked like Brownie. Tiny black poodle toy. Maybe a few years ago this would have been a tall order, but these days the Internet solves many a problem. A stuffed black poodle arrived 3 days later (because when your kid is crying, you pay for faster shipping). He put the collar on the toy and has been carrying it around ever since.
A month has passed since his little dog was killed and he still talks about her every day. She was such a big part of his live that he'll probably talk about her for years, even decades. And that's all right, because she was his baby. His first baby, and he grieved for her as much as anyone has ever grieved for a loved one. There will be other dogs, but Brownie will forever hold that special place in his heart. And I wouldn't change that for the world.
