Jesse: I'm pretty down on small dogs as a rule, but there's something charming about a situation where you can imagine that a man's love for his son is measured in direct inverse proportion to the size of his dog.
The thing is there's a tendency for big men to outfit their lives with all kinds of jumbo-sized trappings like they're some kind of giant who actually needs a truck that can haul twelve tons of concrete and a recliner as big as the base of Lincoln Memorial. Usually it comes off as ridiculous but in the case of a dog it makes sense; a man's dog acts as an avatar of his personality and so needs to match it in some sense, meaning that a small dog flows about as well as him carrying a change purse. But the same is true for a kid and this guy at least has the fatherly restraint to realize what having a dog that isn't twice your size can mean to a child and that no good is going to come out of keeping around some gargantuan beast that can fit the boy's head in its mouth like it's a tennis ball.
So if you're feeling like there's no hope for the world think about this guy walking this dog, feeling like he's pulling a ball of cotton on a string, envisioning a 300-pound mastiff setting off car alarms with its bark when the little yipper gets spooked by a pigeon and cowers inside of a tin can and he's like "Poochkins man when are you going to learn" and scoops him up into his sweatshirt pocket to carry him home.
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