Sunday, 17 November 2013

One of those embarassing moments of realization

This is my first Chihuahua. I mean, the first Chihuahua I met. I think we had one in school and she was ever yapping, but I never actually met that one. This one - I forget her name, though I remember it was cute - was the nicest dog I have ever seen. Normally, like anyone else, including the owner, my first impulse would be to forever hate these breeds as a terribly byproduct of Paris Hilton's horrid lifestyle .. But oh man. When these two (there were two, but only one liked me), came running at me as I walked into their floor (they cannot climb stairs, i think, so they just reign the upper, cushier floor with the fireplace), they were so small I thought they must be puppies. They were hamster size. They were cannaries with feet. And as soon as I touched this one, she was the softest, cleanest mutt imaginable. In fact, she kept making the 'lift me! lift me!' pose and i just picked her up and carried her around. For the duration of the meeting.
Seriously? A Chihuahua?? This is all I've been thinking about. None of that hysterical excitement when you come or explosion of emotion when you leave, the constant demand of attention, care or rewards. Certainly every dog is a joy, yadda, yadda, and I love my beast more than I realised before the other day when we lost her in the woods for the night, but most of the people I know take dogs on a challenges, as personalities. Certainly Drej's Joyce is an abundance of character and Flor is her own set of interesting twists and turns, Tara and Emi are ... well, interesting, and Lyra is unique, underlined. Every one is almost a person. No way you could ever put any one of them in your purse and just carry it around like a little cushy soul.

This is the first dog that was actually really nice to me.
And that's how I fell in love with a Chihuahua.