One afternoon, Maj came home full of energy.
He threw his schoolbag into the corner, his sneakers flew off in different directions, and then he shouted:
“Missy! Let’s goooo!”
From the living room came a tiny white fluff ball with soft fur and little black eyes. It was Missy, a small Maltese dog who looked like a cloud with paws.
Maj bent down to her and started waving a toy.
“Come on, Missy, let’s play fast, wild, crazy!”
At first Missy made a little jump, but then she took a step back.
Maj almost did not notice.
“Haha, Missy, you’re so slow!” he laughed and wanted her to play even more wildly.
Just then, Mom came out of the kitchen. Missy ran straight to her.
“Again to Mom,” Maj muttered and frowned a little. “You always go to Mom.”
Missy looked at Maj, then at Mom, then at Maj again.
As if she wanted to say something.
That night, something very strange happened.
Maj dreamed that he had become tiny. Really tiny.
As tiny as Missy.
His bed was as big as a football field, the chair was as tall as a skyscraper, and his slippers looked like boats.
Then he heard a loud voice:
“MAJ! LET’S GOOOO!”
Boom, boom, boom!
A giant was running toward him.
He had messy hair, a huge smile, and he was waving some big toy.
Maj jumped back in fear.
“Wait! That’s too fast!” he shouted.
But the giant said:
“Come on, it’s just a game!”
Maj ran under the table. His heart was beating like a drum.
“I don’t want this!” he shouted. “You’re too big! Too loud! Too fast!”
Then Missy quietly sat down next to him. But in the dream she was not an ordinary Missy. She had a tiny blue scarf, almost invisible glasses on her nose, and she spoke in a very serious voice:
“Finally,” she said. “Now maybe you understand.”
Maj stared at her.
“Missy?! You can talk?”
“Of course I can,” said Missy. “It’s just that people usually don’t listen carefully enough.”
Maj swallowed.
“Do I feel as scared as you sometimes feel?”
Missy nodded.
“Sometimes, yes. You know, I’m small. Very small. When you are too fast, too rough, or too loud, it feels like a tractor in sneakers is charging at me.”
“A tractor in sneakers?” Maj asked.
“Yes,” said Missy. “And that is not fun.”
Maj scratched his head, feeling a little embarrassed.
“I just wanted to play.”
“I know,” Missy said more softly. “You are not mean. But sometimes you forget that I am not a stuffed toy. I am a real little dog. I have tiny paws, a tiny neck, a tiny back, and also tiny courage when everything gets too wild.”
Maj was quiet for a while.
“Then why do you always run to Mom?” he asked softly.
Missy lowered her little ears.
“Because with her, it is calm. Because she speaks gently. Because she does not pull me or force me. Because I know I am safe with her.”
When Maj heard that, his heart felt a little heavy.
“But I want you to feel safe with me too,” he said.
Missy looked straight into his eyes.
“Then you do not have to be the loudest. You do not have to be the fastest. You do not have to win against Mom. It is enough to be gentle.”
“And what should I do?” Maj asked.
Missy began walking back and forth like a real teacher.
“First,” she said, “when I come to you, calm down a little. You do not have to start right away with: ‘Missy, let’s go tornado mode!’”
Maj laughed.
“Am I really like that?”
Missy just looked at him.
“Okay, I am,” he admitted.
“Second,” Missy continued, “use soft toys. Do not pull me, do not pick me up for no reason, and do not turn me into a helicopter.”
“I never turned you into a helicopter.”
“Almost,” said Missy. “One time you were very close.”
Maj blushed again.
“Third,” said Missy, “if I move away, that means: I’ve had enough. It does not mean: get even louder.”
“Okay,” said Maj.
“And fourth,” said Missy, “sometimes the nicest play is not crazy at all. You can throw me a soft toy. You can hide a treat for me. You can pet me. We can go for a nice walk. Calm play is real play too.”
Maj thought for a long time.
Then he asked:
“Missy… do you think you could start trusting me more?”
Missy smiled in her doggy way.
“Of course. Just show me that I am safe with you.”
The next morning, Maj woke up.
Everything was normal-sized again. The bed was not a stadium anymore, the slippers were not boats anymore, and nobody was shouting “LET’S GOOOO!”
Missy was sitting by the door, looking at him.
Maj slowly walked over to her. He crouched down. He did not wave, shout, or jump.
He just said softly:
“Hi, Missy. Would you like to play with me?”
Missy tilted her head.
Maj picked up a soft toy and gently threw it just a short distance.
Missy ran after it. Then she came back. Her tail was wagging.
Maj smiled.
“Good girl, Missy.”
Then he gently petted her. Calmly. Softly.
Missy did not run to Mom.
Instead, she sat down next to him.
Maj stayed quiet, but inside he felt as happy as if he had scored the winning goal in the World Cup final.
Mom noticed and smiled.
“Oh, today you two are playing nicely.”
Maj looked at Missy and said:
“Yes. Now I know that the best play is not the wildest play. The best play is the play where Missy feels good.”
Missy gave a happy bark, as if she were saying:
“Finally! Humans can learn after all!”
And from that day on, Maj always remembered one important thought:
If Missy feels safe with me, she will also enjoy playing with me.
Moral of the story
A small dog is not a toy.
She needs gentleness, calmness, and a feeling of safety.
Anyone who is kind and gentle with a dog will slowly earn her trust and her heart.
