Gone to the Dogs

Perhaps it's a transplant gone horribly wrong. A rather refined gentleman regularly comes into the library with an unusual accessory. I've never seen him without it. I'm a little puzzled because it complicates checking the catalog or holding books. No, it's not a man purse. He carries his little Jack Russell terrier with him. It's not a helper dog unless being an emotional crutch qualifies. I just don't get it.