People are always getting on my case about my irrational love of chihuahuas. They’re tiny and loud and nervous, everyone says (and by everyone, I usually mean Biscuit, who swears he won’t darken my doorway if I ever own a chihuahua). People don’t seem to understand that I’M tiny and loud and nervous, which makes me + chihuahua = match made in heaven hell. I love those tiny yappy-type fuckers. I think they’re fierce miniature little ninjas and I want five of them. Also, they have the added bonus of being portable in even the daintiest of my purses and people, my purses get pretty dainty.
I have a deep personal appreciation for the get-out-of-my-space fierceness of chihuahuas. My friend Raych had Lupe, when we were in high school together, and I’ve never been more reluctant to turn my back on anything quite that small (note: I am usually only reluctant to turn my back on rhinos, veloceraptors, and other much larger predators). Lupe would bark and snap at you in this way that stated, very clearly and without prevarication: “the minute you turn your back on me, fearsomely large adversary, I will BITE MERCILESSLY THROUGH YOUR ACHILLES’ TENDON so that when you are felled, I may eat victoriously of your face and possibly internal organs, depending on time.” This is quite clearly the message of a chihuahua’s bark.
You might wonder why this would attract me to them. It’s because I respect that. I respect the genetic ability to cause a ruckus totally disproportionate to your size. As you can imagine, this ability resonantes with me. I also respect skunks for the same reason. I was at the Bronx Zoo this one time, and we were looking down on a serene wooded area where absolutely fucking enormous deer were roaming about aimlessly. Suddenly they all started skittering about, freaked out like they were teenagers caught smoking. I looked around for the source of the commotion and oh, yes – there was a skunk. A small animal about a foot in length with a God-given defense mechanism that drove deer twenty times its size away. That commands RESPECT. I, also, am small and seemingly without defenses and while I don’t stink up a room or rip through your Achilles’ tendon, I have built up my own set of defenses against the cruel world (mainly involving my awesome lung power and big, big friends).
So you see, I have respect for the diminuitive chihuahua. I feel that we would be great companions. One of the reasons I don’t insist on getting one as soon as we’re allowed to have dogs is because of my husband. I seriously cannot imagine Stuart carrying around Doctor Death*, my little chihuahua. And you know, he’d have to be carried, because Doctor Death cannot cross storm drains on a leash. At at some point in his life, he would have to be carried by Stuart. And, well, Stuart is a lot of things but dainty and wee is not one of them. Because I love him, I perhaps think that getting a chihuahua would rob him of the ability to live his life NOT carrying around a tiny little dog the size of his hand. Still and all, I’m pretty sure that if anything could convince Stuart of the AWESOME POWER of the angry chihuahua (and our immediate need to own one, STAT), it’s this video. Stuart, and the rest of you as well.
FEAR THE CHIHUAHUA.
* This is not really my dream chihuahua name. My dream chihuahua name is so awesome that if I told you, you’d rush out and buy a chihuahua just so you could use my awesome name and I’m not stupid, so I’m not telling you. PPFFBTBT.