My "Big" Little Diego David Perez My mom, my sister, Diego, and I were on our way back to the states after spending a wonderful weekend in Mexico; Diego was our little family dachshund dog. Oh boy did we spoil him! We would always take him with us everywhere we went. He was one intelligent and funny dog, and as long as he was accompanied by one of us, he would always act as if he were a pitbull. He would bark, growl and act mean. For a little dog, he thought he was much bigger than he actually was. We were driving in traffic very slowly coming back; that’s the way things got on the border during the weekends. Diego could not stay still. He was looking out the back window, then out the side, mouth open, tongue hanging, barking. Then he came to the front, got on my lap and looked at me, then out the window, and barked at the car next to us. As we approached the U.S. Customs Station, I stopped and waited for my turn. In the meantime, I put Diego in the middle of the front seat between my sister and me. I said, “Diego, stay here, and don’t move.” He lay down with his head between his paws, acting very innocent. I made my way to the border station booth, and I stopped in front. A tough-acting U.S. Customs agent approached the car, rested his hands on the door, and then lowered his head to the window. As he started to ask his first question, Diego turned and jumped towards the window and barked loudly. The U.S. Customs agent’s eyes bulged out as he jumped backwards with his hands up in the air while screaming, like he was being chased by a grizzly bear. He stopped to calm himself down as other officers ran to his rescue. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” they asked. They 181
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