¡viva chihuahuas!

[pieces o nine]

HEEL!


"My friends, my name ees Bobby..."



"Who is with me?..."

[Sibling Chatty]

EEEEP!

Ratdogs!!

(Personal prejudice here...Mom's last dog was a little ratdog nicknamed Neena, AKA, da Neen. "Ugly, mean, that's da Neen!")

[Bob in a quantum-state-of-faith]

Sorry, but if it weighs less than 40 pounds and is not a cat*.... not interested. 

"ankle-biters" comes to mind, with incessant, never-ending yipping such that you want to either drop-kick it over the back fence, or possibly see if it does, in fact, fit into the garbage disposal....   

Let it out at night when you are positive that coyotes are about and hope....





_________________________

* have met several 40 pound cats, actually-- the last one was easily a match for any dog, regardless of size (and, no, he was not fat even a bit)...but quite fond of suddenly jumping up onto your lap-- all 40 pounds-- and expecting to be scratched.  He would contritely allow you a minute or so to catch your breath first....

[anthrobabe]

Naughty, naughty Bob-- but of course you are a toadfish sibling and we certainly allow you to have your opinion. 

I am partial to cats myself-- but like all dogs. Never had small ones, my landlady has a friend who might be looking to get rid of her little dog-- something fuzzy and was expensive but they are afraid for the baby now for some reason--- get him neutered I say! but they might be thinking stud fees or something. He is currently tied up on their back porch, I told her that no promises but I would try it if he needed a home.

My grandmother had a little bitty chihuahua named appropriately 'tiny'-- meanest animal I have ever met and I'm from Arizona and have seen sick coyotes, huge rattlers, and black bears addicted to icecream (don't ask how black bears get addicted to ice cream, but it ain't purty).

My daughters friend raises and breed chihuahuas and they are the sweetest dogs and puppies I have ever known-- I'd love to have one but will not purchase an animal while the shelters are full.

My largest cat was an unaltered Tom (yes the stink lingers to this day and 4 moves later!) named Tigger--- he came from a shopping cart on a parking lot and was about 3 weeks old when we got him-he was the last one in the box of the litter and was tiny, dehydrated as mom cat died, filthy and covered with fleas and he spent the first week we had him in my bra (don't laugh, he would have died, I did in fact take him everywhere and got priceless looks, and yes I did in fact get fleas, but we took care of that easily enough as luckily they did not get off me and into the carpet). At 5 years old he weighed 25 pounds-all muscle-- we had to move and a friend took him to her barn where he is happily killing and eating all the mice he can find-- he never saw a mouse until 5 years old(that I know of), saw it, crouched, pounced, killed without playing with it (good boy), and ate it. She had to have him neutered--- he was prolific and could get out of the barn at night no matter what she devised. He is probably 30 pounds now, leaning more to fat now. I miss that cat.

My most precious cat was Bo-Bo (like the hurt a bo bo), regular size spayed female mixed breed-- took on and won with all dogs until on day in 1998--- I am not over her loss yet and will never be. That dog was lucky-she was old (17 years) and got out one day while at my mothers. I will never be over her being gone.

[Darlica]

Funny little flick!

I'm also partial towards bigger dogs, however I do love Jack Russell Terriers... I think they are very different form many of their same sized cousins and of cause, what they lack in size they make up for in attitude.

[pieces o nine]

That clip made me think of  Poodle with a Mohawk.

I like most dogs (at least in theory!) but prefer cats. I learned to walk with a cat. The tough, farm-bred Tom my parents kept had never seen a human child or baby. Apparently, he became concerned because here I was, my eyes open for months  now, yet making no effort to learn to hunt for myself. His meowing at them didn't register as criticism of their parenting skills, so he took matters into his own paws and began parading back and forth in front of me. I am told that that I would laugh, grab his tail, get pulled to my feet and take a couple steps as he patiently stuck to his plan. Then I would fall and laugh some more, triggering him to turn around and come back for another try. He kept at it until I walked. Thanks, Tom...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I've become accustomed to seeing chihuahuas in young women's purses here -- usually the ones clutching a Starbucks in one hand and a cellphone in the other. They seem content with their lot, so 'Bobby' might not find a receptive canine audience in Denver. But I know of no self-respecting cats allowing themselves to be stuffed into shoulder bags and bounced around town.

[Bob in a quantum-state-of-faith]

If we're going all nostalgic about long-lost pets, I must mention Butt-cat/Butler or just "Butt"   As in "you stupid butt-- GET OFF there!"   

When he was a kitten, his name was going to be Zonker (from Doonsbury) but he was NOT a Zonker, no sirree.

In fact, I had not planned on obtaining a new cat, I had one already.  But, the petstore I frequented (I kept many tropical fish in a large tank in those days) had a fresh cache of kittens.  I like to look at and play with kittens-- who doesn't? 

Anyway, they all were typical kittens-- not all that bright, too-cute for words, and would play with anything.

Except for Butt.  He had been quiet when I entered the shop.  I petted all the kittens in the pen (5 or 6) including him.  I thought that was that.... except when I left the area, going back to look for fishfood (my original reason for stopping), not-yet-named-Butt let up such a yowling.   I asked the clerk, "does he always do that?"

"no, not that I noticed before"

I went back, and looked in.  He saw me, and stopped his yowl, and begin such a loud purr....mind, I had not reached in, yet, but he naturally assumed that I would, and began to purr in anticipation.  So I scritched his ears, and moved away.

"yowllll!"

Move back into sight---- *bzzzzzzzzzz*

Move away.... "Yowlll!", back, *bzzzzzzzz*

"I guess he means for me to take him home," I said to the clerk.

"It seems so!" she laughed.

So I did.

The other cat I already had did not work out ('nother story) and soon enough, all I had was Butt. 

He named himself-- by stint of getting into EVERYTHING.    His preferred sleeping place, as a kitten, was on top of the fridge in a bowl kept there.   I thought he had jumped onto the counter, then onto the fridge-- no, he went from floor to fridge-top in one go.... as a kitten.

He soon learned to open cabinet doors, pull open drawers, and claw-open doors that had not latched closed-- he was literally everywhere.

He taught himself the spatial relation between a 2nd floor apartment window, and the ground below-- I'd let him out at his request via the front door, downstairs (indoor stairs, 2nd floor apt).   At first, he'd scratch the door, or meow below my bedroom window (right above the front door), but sometimes he wanted in, and I was away or asleep....

...so, he figured out how to jump up, clamber across a porch roof, and onto the widow ledge of the living-room window (another leap).  Around the corner from the front door.  WAY around.    He removed the screen himself....    And meowed at the window until I opened it and let him in.

Later, I created a modified cat-door that fit underneath that window, and he could come and go as he pleased. 

But, he still insisted, occasionally, on being let out the front door...

One smart cat.  He had a vocabulary of 8-10 distinctly different meows, which he patiently taught me the meaning of.  He understood quite a few English words, too.

I had created a magnetic cat-door for him, that "latched" closed quite firmly.  He had to push--hard to get through, then scoot through quickly to avoid a tail-pinch.  I helped him through one time only, and he had it down, including not getting his tail caught.

Once, when I lived with my brother in a town-house, and had migrated his door to there, I saw him being chased by a much larger cat.  He hit the cat-door "slam" full-speed.  The other cat stopped suddenly, and looked quite confused--- where did that cat go?  Funniest expression I ever saw in person on a cat's face.  (I was just coming home, and was outside when it happened.)   Butt seemed to know that he had a "get out of jail free" card with that door, and often exploited it.

You could tell, by the way he shot into the living room.... and I think that Butt enjoyed the chase, and outsmarting the chasing animal that way.

Butt lived 14 years, then developed feline lukemia (in spite of shots-- *bleah* a scam if ever there was one...) and lost the will to eat.  I granted his last wish, and he ended his life painlessly, but with dignity.

He is still missed-- once in a great while, I have dreams he's still alive.... 

He was a white-siamese/grey-tabby mix.   Largish, 30 pounds or so. 

Smartest animal I ever knew, even including the very smart shepherd/collie mix my parents had for years and years... (but they'd no doubt argue)