MY LIFE AND TIMES
A Dog Blog by Bear
Lubbock, Texas. Summer 1997.
The sky was sunny. The wind was calm. Not too hot. Not too humid. My owner left the window in the bedroom cracked and I could hear the birds chirping outside.The window was high, but I jumped on the bed and peered out. I didn’t realize I could jump out of the window until my paw hit the screen. It was loose! The four-foot fall from the sill onto the sidewalk was exhilarating. Whammo and I was free!
A few people in the apartment complex heard me barking and came outside. It was a fun game with them frantically chasing after me. At one point, I had to bite a woman’s leg to avoid capture. That made it totally unfun, man. So I hit the parking lot at full throttle, crossed 19th Street and disappeared past Arby’s into an open field. What I did during this time is a little hazy, but I’m sure it was crazy fun.
My owner came home for dinner that evening and found a note our neighbors left. They’d seen me escape and were among the failed rescuers. But I was looooong gone by then, compadres.
When it got dark, I was a little scared. But I was free so who cares? Then it started to rain. Hard. With thunder. I hate thunder. It makes me shiver just thinking about it. The rain isn’t bad when I’m all curled up inside. But this sucked. I was getting cold and hungry. It was time to go home.
I knew the way because I’d been taken for little walks in the past few months. I recognized the apartment building, and I could smell the big pile of poop that husky in apartment 256 left the other day. Nobody was home, so I went to the door and curled up on the welcome mat. How thoughtful of my owner to leave it there. I slept well out of the rain. Hunger and the evening chill ate at me, though.
Finally, my owner came home. I smiled at him. He was surprised to see me, and picked me up, took me inside and dried me off. I told him about my day, but he didn’t care. He was too happy I was back. I ate a little bit of food and felt all warm and fuzzy, inside and out.
As I was crawling into my doggy bed in the bedroom, I noticed the window had been closed.
I’ve been with my current owner, Fuzzy Thunderbutt, for more than six years now. I’m all used to him, and that lady he brought home. I call her Smelly McNiblets because she always smells like flowers and gives me treats when I’m good. Then they got another dog! They keep calling her Jipp-see, although her real name is Clumps Muffin because she sheds hair in piles during the summer. She’s bigger than me, but lots of fun. All was well.
However, they have some new pet they keep cuddling they call Cutlet. He takes a lot of their time and energy, and I have a sneaking suspicion I’ve been replaced. He smells funny and makes strange noises. He’s been around six months, and I have a feeling they aren’t going to get rid of him. So I’ve been snapping and biting strangers occasionally.
I’d be happier if I lived with a single person or a couple with no children. If there are kids, better make them big because I go after the small ones. To be clear, it would take someone special to take me in, and I won’t enrich anyone’s life right away. Takes me time to warm up to someone else. Fuzzy is my second caretaker, but I rarely think of what’s-her-name much. I am capable of being loyal to someone new who is patient and understands the chihuahua mentality: I will be a cuddly pal to a few people, but always wary of strangers. I am not fun at parties.
Here are a few other nuggets from the time capsule that has been my life:
1. Curly Maple saw me in the pet shop. I was sharing a kennel with a sibling who ate all the food. That meant my main source of nutrition was poop. She convinced her then-boyfriend to buy me, but she had to lie to him about having her parents’ permission to have a dog. She turned on the tears when her parents met my arrival with more-than-mild disapproval. They relented, and Curly kept me in her bedroom. There, I could frolic freely, eating things off the floor, including with my own poo, and having a grand time.
2. Then I met Curly’s brother, Fuzzy. He didn’t live in the same house, but he would visit. I’d bark a happy bark when I heard his car pull up. He’d come into my room and play with me for awhile, even letting me into the living room to watch TV and eat new, exciting things (along with my own poo) off the floor.
3. I got to visit Fuzzy at his place when Curly went on a school trip to Mexico. I had lots of fun. The floor was amazingly clean (except for my own poo, which I ate). He came home from work to eat and play with me. I was feeling really loved and started acting sweet. Yeah, yeah. I know it would eat away at my street cred to be nice and all, but I didn’t care. I was so happy to find out I was going to stay with him. In honor of my new digs, I kicked my poo-eating habit.
4. When Fuzzy brought Smelly home, I barked at her. But then she laughed, said “Yeah, right” and started to play with me. I liked her a lot and was glad when she eventually moved in, too.
5. I’ve had a few tastes of freedom besides my escape from the apartment. When me and Fuzzy moved to a little house across town, the door blew open and I trotted out. Fuzzy tried to catch me but I took off like a shot down the alley. He grabbed me before I was ready to go home, but whatever. When we moved to a bigger house in Fort Worth, the door blew open again and me and Clumps barked at a few neighborhood dogs behind a fence. Fuzzy and Smelly took us back home and got a new, non-blow-open door.
6. I’ve bitten a few people, but it was mostly in fun. Well, except that time that lady offered me half her hamburger and I bit her hand. And this past weekend while staying at Curly’s, when I bit Plinky Wonderfiddle and Spiffy Taters, they were ASKING for it! But when I took a chunk out of Buckets O’Jiggles’ leg, or snapped at Daddy O, or cornered Fuzzy’s ex-boss at her own house while she was watching me, or when I latch onto somebody’s pants leg ... that’s all in a day’s fun! Geez, nobody’s got a sense of humor! To my peeps, I am sweet and loving. I love to cuddle and comfort people who are sick.
7. Sometimes I get sick when my tummy gets nervous. The thunderstorms a few weeks ago reminded me of my long-ago adventure in the rain. Freakin’ out, yo! So the third day of storms made me have to do the liquid poo and barf, and I did it all over Fuzzy and Smelly’s bed. It stunk! But after getting some medicine from Dr. Coldfingers, I was all good. I only take pills if they are hidden in a small piece of hot dog. Me loves me them Ballpark franks. Illness is rare for me; most of the time I am the picture of perfect health.
8. I usually don’t like other dogs, but I have warmed up to Clumps. She is nice. We play games where we bark at the dogs on either side of our house. Red Rider and Newbie Crapmuffin like to run up and down the fence and bark. Darkie Dinglepuss (the gay miniature poodle) just barks and then runs away.
9. My hair gets long and needs to be cut every few months. I am tri-color with very beautiful markings. Used to look like a German shepherd puppy when I was little – big head and little body. But I’m definitely all chihuahua. Pure-bred, long-haired variety. I’m so proud of my Mexican heritage. I love that song “Low Rider” too.
10. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to Fuzzy, Smelly, Clumps and that little Cutlet. But I’ve got new places to see, new people to bite. I’m hoping they can find me a good home soon that I can run away from. I’m like a hairy yo-yo, though, I always come back.
*Note: Fuzzy (apparently you know him as T-Bone) told me to write that this is not a direct plea for a new home. Not everyone who wants a dog can handle me. I might have to join a special club sponsored by a (thankfully no-kill) chihuahua rescue group to find a new home. I know I’ll be happier. Fuzzy will stop blaming me for his gaseous transgressions. I won’t have to fight a baby for attention. Besides, maybe in the transition I can sneak a few bites of poo for old time’s sake. Woof!
