1
Donât Mess with the Chihuahua
Iâve been waiting for a signâa sign from my wild brothers that itâs time to join their pack. Today could be the day. Just as yesterday could have been the day ⦠but wasnât.
So far today has been pretty normal. But Mona is getting ready to take me to the park. Mona the beautiful. Mona the wonderful. Mona the one who wrapped me in a soft blanket when I was just a little thing.
Iâm not little any longer. Iâm a predator. A big, tough predator. Okay, Iâm not that big. Actually, alittle undersized, maybe. But that could be an advantage. Think of me as a dangerous wolf in a compact size.
Thatâs why Mona never goes to the park without me.
Protection.
When we leave the safety of the apartment, I set the tone early. Do my job. Make a statement. Create a donât-mess-with-the-bad-boy-Chihuahua-or-the-beautiful-wonderfulness-in-the-flowing-skirt-and-loopy-earrings zone. Before I even step onto the sidewalk, I make up my mind to do my rapid-fire bark at the first person I see. Deep breath, dig down, let âer rip! Bark, bark, bark. Ulp.
It turns out my target is an old lady pulling a wire cart on two wheels loaded with a large paper bag. Oops. Still, you never know what might be in a paper bag. Mona gets down to my level and scolds me. She seems to think the old lady is harmless and the bag contains groceries.
Mona is nice to everyone. Too nice. But deep down she understands she needs someone with a little grit to keep up the defenses.
Mona apologizes to the old lady while I peek in the bag. Groceries. Donât know how Mona guessed. But anybody can get lucky. Onions, three bananas, a loaf of bread, and ⦠whatâs this? Tucked down under the bananas, three cans of Tabby TidbitsâChicken à la King. A cat lover disguised as an innocent neighbor!
I give that woman another bark to let her know I have her little game figured out. Ulp. Mona tugs me down the street before I can warn the neighborhood.
Next we pass a couple of nasty cats on a windowsill, just sitting there because no one has the guts to make them move out. This is why neighbors with cat food are so dangerous. âIs that a squirrel on a leash?â says one cat.
Very funny. Luckily, Iâm loaded with self-control. I decide to ignore them.
The other one laughs like this is the funniest thing sheâs ever heard. âEat lots of acorns so you can grow up big and strong.â
That does it. I bark and growl and lunge at them. Go right for the jugular. Theyâre too dumb to even flinch. Just keep on laughing. Hrmpf! Leashes. Itâs possible they can tell Iâm attached to a rope.
âLobo, mind your manners.â Mona doesnât like me barking at the cats in the neighborhood, even when they start it. I bet she wouldnât mind so much if she could understand what they say.
All the way to the park, I remind myself about how excellent it is to be a dog with wolflike qualities. Cats! All they can dream about is that they come from ⦠gee, let me see now ⦠a cat! Wowee! My great-great-great-grandparents? Tough, beautiful wolves!
Finally weâre at the park. There is no feeling in the world like the one you get when the leash comes off and you can run full tilt as far as you want. Of course, I donât stray too far from Mona. Like I said, she needs me.
Protection.
When we get back to the apartment, Hector, the rat, has been busy. He has his brand-new cardboard-tube home chewed all the way to the ground. âStill sharp, still breaking it all down tosize.â He shows me his teeth. They are yellow and scary looking.
âThat was your house,â I say.
âRats donât need houses,â he says. âThey need holes.â
âI need a pack,â I say. âSomeday Iâm going to find my wolf brothers.â
âYou could be my rat brother,â he says. âWeâre almost the same
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