Maybe you just think that all poorly-bred Kleins are really Poms or poorly bred Poms and really Kleins? I am not a title expert enough to know which set of traits best matches the standard. When I was fourteen, I watched as my dog, Prince, closed his eyes for the last time. He was sixteen, and had been living with my parents for a year before I was born. As soon as I came home from the hospital, he decided that his primary purpose in life was to protect me, and later my little brother. When I was inside, he slept no more than a few feet away from me, and if I was outside, he walked beside me, and would sometimes lead me around by gently grabbing my hands in his mouth.
Later, when I was older and title would take him on walks, he always had to be between me and other people or dogs. He was an American Eskimo Dog, and only weighed 36 pounds at his prime, but he would stand between me and dogs five times his size, without hesitation. I tell you this only to illustrate the loyalty and selflessness that dog displayed every minute of his life. When we finally put him down, he was just shy of blind, nearly deaf, and he’d lost several teeth. He was down to 28 pounds, a 22% reduction from his healthy weight, and his joints had worn out to the point that he could no longer climb down the two steps to our backyard.