DISCLAIMER:
What you are about to experience here is not for the faint of heart. It's not for the queasy of constitution or the timid of mind. This is a story that promises to stir up images, smells, and . . . most likely, bile, quite like none other before. Okay maybe there's other sick sh!t out there that is similar and you've already had to visit the bathroom for those stories, but hey, let's see how long before this story either grabs you or . . . grosses you out.
I can't remember when the first Chihuahua was acquired, but before we knew it, Karen and kids had some Chihuahuas. I don't remember how many they started with either. I do remember when they lived on C St., they had a miniature Doberman or maybe it was just a pup, but Jon and Mary were too young and they ended up tormenting the hell out that dog and it became mean and untrainable and they ended up getting rid of it. Many years later (I think) the family unit as it were, plus the addition of Stephanie got a Chihuahua or two and before long, ankle biters abounded.
Now, of course, they reside in and round our detached garage. Much to the dismay of our neighbors. But, our neighbors all have dogs. For the longest time, Lisa and I were the only dog-less home of all the adjacent homes on our block. We own a cat or rather, the cat convinced us we would be a good match as long as food was consistently served and yummy and lap time and pettin's were aplenty. Not having a fenced yard, we've had to deal with unattended dogs and their inevitable deposits. In fact, there are at least two of our dog owning neighbors (across the alley) that I know purposely let their dogs roam to poop in our yard. That doesn't happen nearly as much anymore. Not without an earful of friggin' yapping that'll have you wanting to use a flame thrower just to shut them the hell up!
Anyway, it's a love hate relationship at best. I mean, they're downright adorable individually or even when they're let out of their impromptu pen. They get all sniffy and big doe eyed on their oversized for their bodies heads. They'll come up to you and stretch up to lick you so you'll pet 'em and all. But, at night or in the morning when you're trying to sleep and they start barking at the nightly raccoons that visit the pen searching for leftover scraps of dog food while they're put up in the garage, they get into a nonstop bark-fest that'll have you dreaming of some of the most interestingly sadistic ways to eliminate them.
My first inclination was a trebuchet (sp?) or catapult that'll launch them into the Strait of Juan de Fuca for passing Orca to feed on. Friends have suggested using them for crab bait. And others . . .
