I’ve decided upon my life’s goal:
I want to be as good as my dog thinks I am
Emma, our resident feline (aka Mrs. Peal) is really a pain to winter with. She loves being outdoors, but does not like to go out in the snow. A few years ago, we decided, before the complete winter lock down, that we would get a kitten to occupy our soon to be cabin fevered cat.
As is typical of most of our planning and execution, we came home instead with a dog…a male Chihuahua puppy to be more precise.
Thus, for better or worse, Martini (Tini) Oliver joined our clan.
We’ve not had much dog experience, and what we have had has not been all that good. So it was with certain trepidation that we began our life together.
The Early Days
He beached himself on a step as a puppy. That was it for stairs. We put in a small ramp in the foyer so he could get around the first floor of the house, as he firmly decided he wasn’t going up or down steps.
He flat out refused to wear a collar. In fact, he became a lawn ornament when a collar was placed on him.
He loved to go for walks, as long as I carried him…
…and that became harder and harder as he seemed to continually put on weight.
He became a 14 pound pork roast with stick legs. Tini moved up to the heavyweight division.
I began referring to him as “My Last Meal.”
His Owner Gets Smarter
Tini now will go up a few steps, but still refuses to go down.
He will now wear a collar. He ultimately fell for the line “only the best dogs get pretty necklaces.” Turns out dogs are as gullible as men!
We go for walks where Tini actually walks…
And we are seriously working on the weight thing.
The Big Picture
By Canine standards, he’s not much of a dog, but he’s my dog.
Animal Planet did a show on the 10 breeds of dogs most removed from the wolf – of course, the Chihuahua (pronounced ”che-hoo-a-hoo-a” by my Vet & his staff when they think I can’t hear) came in first place – the dog furthest from the wolf. No mystery where that was going…
Tini is an excellent early warning system. For whatever value a security system has, Tini maximizes it. And very economical – low input, low output.
His teeth are small – I refer to them as “The Tiny Daggers of Death.”
If holding on to something in his mouth meant anything, he would rule the world. In human terms, he could only hope to get to a capillary – veins and arteries are out of the question.
Tini’s Got Shotgun
He loves car rides. I mean he really, really loves to ride in the car. In dog terms, an hour in the car for Tini could be the equivalent of a day at the amusement park.
That he likes car rides suits me just fine, as driving continues to be one of my personal pleasures.
And This All Leads To…
When I come home (or often, even upon entering the room), Tini reacts like it is the best thing that ever happened. Circles and wiggles all over the place!
So, yes, I aspire to be as good as Tini (as psychotic as he is) thinks I am. I’d sure hate to let the little guy down.