Editor's Note: Professor Locs, aka Charles Easley, is an educator who explores race, class, gender, sexuality, media and popular culture with humor and insight. His column is published here each Wednesday. Opinions expressed are solely his own. Click here to read his blog.

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We’ve all heard the expressions “Good things come in small packages,” or “man’s best friend.” Well, both apply to the story of Paco, a small dog with a big ego.

Paco’s heroic efforts are what prompted me to watch this video. It also brought up some shameful memories, but more on that later.

Paco is a fierce Chihuahua that handled his business by running off two men attempting to rob a California smoke shop. The shop owner, Eric Knight, says he rescued Paco several years ago. The dog now spends his days hanging out in the shop or canvassing the neighborhood.

Paco is well known to other merchants and neighbors. The only people who didn’t know but should have asked somebody were the two would-be robbers.

After watching the video of these armed bandits, I’m sure you will ask: What kind of wimps would let a miniature Chihuahua punk them out like that? What do you say to your fellow criminals and still maintain some dignity and street credibility?

I mean, really; it’s not like a pitbull, a Doberman or a Rottweiler chased you off. A dog that weighs about the same as a cell phone ran you down. A gerbil might as well have chased you out of the store.

Well, I know the pain these robbers felt and the ultimate shame they will have to live with for the rest of their lives, because I, too, was a victim of a small-dog confrontation.

Picture it: The year is 1983 and I am a freshman in college. I return home to find not only has my room been turned into my Mom’s sewing space but she also has acquired a new pet. My Mom was the ultimate caretaker, so she decided to adopt this rescue dog. But not just any rescue dog, this dog was abused, had a history of anti-social behavior, a facial tick, anger management issues and dandruff. You know, a real love monster.

My Mom was so excited to introduce me to the newest member of the family. She opened the patio blinds and there stood this bulging-eyed animal with its teeth pressed against the glass growling at me.

My Mom just smiled and said, “Isn’t she cute? I named her Whoopi.”

We obviously had different filters. My Mom saw Lassie while I saw Cujo. She had bonded with this mutt, but the dog hated everyone else. It was a mix between Chihuahua, Datsun and Hell Hound.

I ignored the pint-size pest and went about my business. I returned home later that night from an outing with friends, and upon letting myself in and waving goodbye I heard a low but distinct growling. It was Whoopi, my Mom’s psychotic new pet.

I tried to wave to my friends for help but they just waved back, blew the horn and disappeared down the street.

My room was all the way in the back of the house, and I had to negotiate the dark hallways with the tiny terror stalking me. I tried to play cool at first, walking quickly through the house, but I could hear Whoopi close behind as she growled and breathed her Cerberus-like breath on my ankles.

I panicked and started a full sprint, losing all cool points, screaming and running through the house toward my room with Satan’s miniature minion fast on my tail. Finally, sliding into my room I managed to slam the door just before the beast reached me. This only angered Whoopi, who continued to growl, bark and slash at me from under the door.

I sat back panting and gasping for air. Then, in a surreal moment, noticed that the slashing claws had pink toenails. This deranged dog actually sat still for my Mom to paint her toenails, yet here she was trying to use those manicured meat hooks to rip out my throat.

Everyone in the house was now awake, and I knew that I would have to face the shame of being cornered by something the size of a football. So you see, I know how those robbers felt when Paco chased them from the store. Don’t judge unless you, too, have come fang to foot with a ferocious pint-sized pooch…smile.

I know I am not alone, so please share your pet nightmare stories.

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