Living with a Great Dane means adjusting to a whole new kind of “normal.” My friend Sarah has a Dane named Moose, and spending a week at her place felt like staying with a very large, very polite roommate who just happens to be covered in fur.
For starters, forget personal space. Moose doesn’t just follow you from room to room, he shadows you like a bodyguard. Bathroom? He’s there. Kitchen? He’s there. Try to sneak a snack at midnight? Moose materializes out of nowhere and stares like a disappointed parent until you share.
Then there’s the furniture situation. Sarah once bought a brand new sectional couch, and I swear Moose thinks it was custom-built for him. He doesn’t sprawl out like most dogs. Instead, he sits upright on it like a person, back against the cushions, paws hanging over the edge, head tilted at the TV. The first time I saw him sitting there watching cartoons with the kids, I nearly cried laughing.
But my favorite thing about Moose is how he interacts with people outside the house. At 170 pounds, strangers cross the street when they see him coming. The irony? He’s terrified of butterflies. One fluttered past us on a walk and this massive dog actually hid behind me, peeking around my leg like a toddler. Meanwhile, a group of kids ran up, and Moose just froze, then very carefully bent down so they could pet him. He stayed perfectly still the whole time, tail thumping like a drum.
By the end of the week, I realized something: Great Danes don’t just take up space in your house, they take up space in your life in the best way possible. They demand your attention, they keep you laughing, and they somehow manage to be both giant clowns and gentle protectors all at once.
