He's not really a rider....he's more of a cycling camp follower, hanger on type. Not knowing his name, I call him Miguelito for Miguel Indurain, though he is far shorter but equally fierce of spirit. Nearly human, he is mostly chihuahua. Early this year, while passing a farm house, I sensed motion near my foot and saw him racing beside my ankle trying to take nips. He tripped and fell and rolled in the dirt. I was charmed instantly so I stopped, but he wouldn't come near. Because he lives on an access road I use frequently, I began to see him almost daily. I would always stop, and each time he came a bit closer. One day we did finger to nose contact. And went on to become friends. Because I had a regular riding time, he worked me into his schedule, waiting daily at the road-side mailbox. One day I got caught in the rain...but Miguelito was faithfully sitting by the box soaking wet. I broke my rule and offered him a piece of Clif bar. About a month ago, I came by like usual, but no Miguelito. Kid toys were absent from the driveway and it looked like the migrant family living there had moved. Me and Mig. A kind of sweet summer romance that ended too soon. I do miss him.