Truth is, I've never much cared for chihuahuas. It's their way or the highway.
They tend to be high strung and temperamental, snappish to a fault and often wildly unpredictable and impulsive. Sweetie is all those things - much like her owner, I think but am careful not to say although Michael would likely be the first to agree - a tad schizophrenic, grimly hot tempered, likely to bite without the slightest provocation. If one of the big dogs as much as passes by her, her lip curls into a thoroughly unattractive sneer and she begins to make what Michael calls chupacabra noises. One minute she is comfortably snuggled in my lap, content to be petted, tail wagging like a fan belt. The next, her head whips around and she sinks her tiny teeth into my wrist and gnaws fiercely. She's too small to do much damage but it does tend to startle me and not for the first time, I think how disasterously mis-named she is. Michael has taken to calling her Artificial Sweetener.
She doesn't care for anyone who might be innocently walking past the house, apparently considering it a serious form of trespass. Anyone waiting at the bus stop is a personal affront and God help us all should another dog appear - stray or leashed matters not - she flies at the iron fence like a demon and is only deterred by the fact that she's too fat to get through most of the bars. The doorbell is a call to arms but far and away, the greatest threat and her most bitter enemy is the mail truck. The moment she sees it, she's out the side door and running mindlessly up and down the length of the fence, barking non-stop and causing quite a chihuahua-ish scene.
If she happens to come when called, it's a matter of coincidence and no amount of coaxing will get her where she doesn't want to be or conversely, get her away from where she does. She terrorizes the big dogs out of their food and steals their toys, defends her territory fearlessly and loudly snarls at just the sight of the brush. Michael's last attempt to give her a pill was a dismal failure and he nearly lost a finger trying. She could out-stubborn a mule without breaking a sweat.
And yet.
There is something undeniably adorable about watching her waddle down the stairs or grin at the prospect of a treat. She rolls onto her back and burrows into the couch cushions, kicking her little legs like pistons, twisted like a pretzel and oblivious to having an audience, a bipolar ball of fluff with fangs. Watching her trot down the hallway to greet me each morning makes me smile.
Even chupacabras need love.
She doesn't care for anyone who might be innocently walking past the house, apparently considering it a serious form of trespass. Anyone waiting at the bus stop is a personal affront and God help us all should another dog appear - stray or leashed matters not - she flies at the iron fence like a demon and is only deterred by the fact that she's too fat to get through most of the bars. The doorbell is a call to arms but far and away, the greatest threat and her most bitter enemy is the mail truck. The moment she sees it, she's out the side door and running mindlessly up and down the length of the fence, barking non-stop and causing quite a chihuahua-ish scene.
If she happens to come when called, it's a matter of coincidence and no amount of coaxing will get her where she doesn't want to be or conversely, get her away from where she does. She terrorizes the big dogs out of their food and steals their toys, defends her territory fearlessly and loudly snarls at just the sight of the brush. Michael's last attempt to give her a pill was a dismal failure and he nearly lost a finger trying. She could out-stubborn a mule without breaking a sweat.
And yet.
There is something undeniably adorable about watching her waddle down the stairs or grin at the prospect of a treat. She rolls onto her back and burrows into the couch cushions, kicking her little legs like pistons, twisted like a pretzel and oblivious to having an audience, a bipolar ball of fluff with fangs. Watching her trot down the hallway to greet me each morning makes me smile.
Even chupacabras need love.
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