Chihuahuas love global warming. Sancho was a Chihuahua that I purchased in Otisco, Minnesota. He was a tiny puppy when I bought him. I looked at Sancho and his littermates under a microscope before picking the puppy of my choice. I put him in my coat pocket and took him home.

Sancho was named after Sancho Panza from the novel, Don Quixote. Sancho thought he was half-pitbull and half-Rottweiller. He believed he was a fierce warrior, but everything else knew that he was a Chihuahua. Chickens beat him up.

Sancho was not built for Minnesota winters—not even the wussy ones. He was as diminutive as a winter was gargantuan.

Sancho was my buddy and insisted on following me everywhere. This included outdoors in January. He would begin these expeditions into the winter wonderland with a sprightly walk and eyes filled with hope. His stroll would end with canine freeze-up. His four paws would be held off the frozen turf, with his belly flattened against the ground--a beached Chihuahua.

Read the rest of the Al's column in our April issue...