Don't Take Her Bone

This morning I woke up to the weight of a fluffy black poodle on my hip, chewing happily on a bone. The serenity was just as quickly disturbed when the bed bobbed with the landing of an eight pound, stubby footed chihuahua, who glared at the scene with as much indignity as a little chihuahua can have.

Uttering something that sounded like a mix between a bleat and a growl, suddenly the little thing comes CHARGING at me, and literally BUTTS Lucy. Lucy, quick as a cat and with legs twice as long, shifted and jerked and resettled. Another indignant squeal, and then Thalia came again. This time Lucy jerked off me, and jumped off the bed. Undetterred, Thalia scampered (carefully) down her doggie stairs and tore after her.

A minute later, Thalia made her way up the stairs, with her prize in her mouth. Apparently, Lucy had stolen her bone, and that was just NOT cool.

My dog may be little, but she be fierce, yo.

Thalia and her impersonation of a flopping feesh.

Those of you who know my little pooch know that the girl has some issues. She's teeny and stubby and she's overweight, and resembles more of a sausage than a sleek little chihuahua. It can get her into trouble, as she has no flexibility at all.

It was never more apparent than this weekend, when the pooches got some roasted chicken in their bowls as an extra treat. Lucy always eats delicately, but thalia inhales, as if she's been starved and won't get another bite ever (That is not the case).

I was washing dishes with my sister, and left the dogs to their eating. Not a minute had passed when I suddenly hear a weird splash and wet flopping sounds.

Turning around, I'm aghast to discover my little dog has somehow tipped over the full water bowl, flipped over, and now being drenched on her back, is flopping around like a gutted fish, because her short little legs are no match for a wet floor. She's dangerously close to panicking, and suddenly, because I'm evil, I'm laughing my ass off, and picking up the wet little fish.

Needless to say, quiet and cowed, my little chihuahua obediantly held still while she was toweled off, and then left her chicken to Lucy, prefering to spend the next hour upstairs in her crate, licking her wounds, miserable over her lost dignity.

I think she knows I was laughing at her.