The Story of DOG

I love dogs.
I am a dog person.
Cats are okay (I know, believe me. I have two of them.), but dogs are awesome!

Right now, mine is sleeping on her little pillow that you guys keep seeing:

WTF, Lady?
I'm trying to have a nap!

It cracks me up that she stays there all the time that I'm in here.

She's irritated because...
I keep taking pictures of her.

She's my second favorite subject - after LovelyGirl, of course, and neither are particularly fond of photography.

I wanted a dog from the time LG was a toddler.

OldMan had railed up and down about how under no circumstances were we going to get a dog.
No.Way.
No.How.

Wasn't happening.

I was on the opposite side begging, pleading, demanding, cajoling, swearing and blackmailing him in order to have one. I had a dalmation in mind. I'd had one growing up and wanted one again.

However, fate has a wicked sense of humor.

LovelyGirl and I were headed to work one morning in July about four years ago. At the time, we lived in an older neighborhood that had some busy streets and lots of traffic based on its proximity to a major university.

As we drove out, we both saw what looked like a hamster sitting in the grass by a curb at one of the busier intersections. Luckily for us (and definitely lucky for her), it was still too early for any of the real traffic to have kicked in (remember what I said about getting up every day to get to work early?). LG looked over and asked if I had seen what she had. I said "I'm not sure" and pulled the car over. I told her to jump out and get whatever it was, because clearly it was too small to be out on its own.

She got out,
walked over,
leaned down -

and jumped three feet straight up in the air.

When I panicked and asked what'swrongareyouokayareyouhurt?!? She chuckled and said "it growled at me!!" She bent down and scooped up the smallest dog you have ever seen:

tinydog at four weeks old. even then she was eating my money.

I looked at this tiny little thing that was now licking my daughter like she was a long-lost snausage and made a decision. I would take her home, put her in the tub and go back to work. I assumed that since she was so small, she wouldn't be able to get out of the tub, and any mess she made could be washed down the drain.
So, that's what we did. We put an old towel down and a small bowl of water and a dish of cat food. (Don't judge! It was all we had available at 6:45 in the morning, and I still had to get to work!)

I called OldMan when I got to work and said "hey, when you get home, don't panic, but there's a puppy in the tub."

I felt, rather than heard the heavy sigh on the other end.

"XO, WHY is there a puppy in the tub at home?"
I told him the tale you've now heard and said I would take care of it when I got home.

Before we go on, I want you people to know this:
From the bottom of my heart, I swear, I was going to find the dog a home or take it to the SPCA or something. I had zero intention of keeping her.

ZERO, do you hear?!

We all got home that evening and got the dog out of the tub and let her run around the living room for awhile. OldMan and LG were both in hysterics, and I was trying to keep myself distanced because I didn't want to get too close since I knew she couldn't stay. I will admit, she was a funny, funny animal. At all of four inches long, she was trying to take on our sixteen pound cat.

Ladies and gentlemen!
in THIS corner, our newcomer, standing at less than four inches, weighing less than one pound and with a reach of an inch and a half, let's hear it for....TINYDOG!
And in THIS corner, weighing in at sixteen point six-four pounds, our heavyweight champion with zero survivors in the backyard brawls...FATCAT!! 

Let's get ready to....PURR LIKE A FOOL?

Yeah, even Fatcat got in on it. LG's senior tabby liked the dog. OldMan maintains that it's because cats like to play with their food before they eat it... But, tinydog ran and jumped and growled and snipped and fell over and slipped on the hardwood and it was fairly fucking cute.

The next day was a Friday, and I was off for some reason, maybe I'd taken the day off to deal with the dog or had an appointment or something. I don't remember now. I just know that I had planned to get up in the morning and take it to animal people somewhere. Thursday night, I put a fresh towel down in the tub, plopped the pupster down and went to bed. Approximately thirty seconds later, she started crying.

About one minute after that, she started howling.

You would think that a dog that size would be fairly quiet.

You would be DEAD FUCKING WRONG!

That little beast screamed and yelled and moaned and growled all night. And by 'all night' I mean 'for an hour and a half before I went in and got her'.
I grabbed her and her towel and took them into our bedroom and deposited her into a large bucket and put it next to the bed. She wouldn't sleep unless I was touching her, so I slept with one arm hanging off my bed and in a bucket of puppy.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well.

The next morning, after OldMan got up and started getting ready for work, I tried to pull my hand up and she started the ruckus again, so I just grabbed her, pulled her up onto the bed with me, and, after she started running around, I tucked her in under my chin and tried to go back to sleep.

OldMan came in and laughed and asked if I wanted to keep the dog.

quoi? je n'ai pas ce que vous entendiez...

I opened one eye and looked at him.

His reply was "well, I haven't gotten you anything for your birthday (the next week). I suppose this would make an appropriate gift."

I just smiled and went back to sleep.

As she grew, she ceased being so painfully cute and went to adorable:

Compliments of my favorite sister.
Do you see how it looks like she's sinking into the grass?
Her legs were just that short.

I want you to notice the absolute chunk she was here. This dog will eat and eat and eat until she explodes if you let her! She went from less than one pound to almost four in the span of about six weeks! 

It was epic!

She was helping me pull up carpet for a remodel at the old house.

Then she kind of grew up into a lovely, lithe little animal. The vets could not figure out what kind of dog she was. I heard papillon, terrier mix, spaniel mix and a few others. I think only one professional ever mentioned the word 'chihuahua'. 

If you're wondering, that adoring look was for LovelyGirl who
was standing with me while I was taking pictures.

Tinydog quickly took over the house. Our poor cats were run from one end to the other for almost a year, and then we moved. For six months after the move, there were constant battles for supremacy until it was finally decreed that tinydog would rule with Fatcat as her second, and Crankypuss would just stay the hell out of the way, thankyouverymuch.

Here are tinydog and Fatcat having a BFF moment in the backyard.

 Every once in a while, there is another challenge, but this is usually what one of the cats will see:

I see what you're doing over there.
Don't think I can't.
I'll fuck you up, bitch. Try me.

And that, my friends, is the story of  how tinydog came to stay.

She's my dog, no question. During the day, she's in my lap or under my damn feet non-stop.

Or until I get out the vacuum.

In the evenings, however, she wants fuck-all to do with me. Then she's completely devoted to OldMan and LovelyGirl, both of who really don't care one way or the other.

Go figure.