The Chihuahua is scheduled to be neutered a week from today. I am counting the moments, hoping that the frighteningly oversexed animal will be more manageable after his procedure.
As it stands now, I can hardly keep him contained. More than once during the past few weeks he has escaped from the house unbeknownst to me. Once when I opened the door to leave for work, there sat the Chihuahua, outdoors, looking up at me expectantly, as if to say,"Where've ya been , bitch? How long didja expect me to sit here waiting?" (I never knew that he was outdoors, not will I ever know how he got there.)
The little devil was waiting for me when I returned from work today. As I opened the door, arms full, he shot out the door like a speeding bullet. I dumped my armload and took off after him, shrieking at the top of my lungs. I attracted the attention of the construction workers building a brick path in the park outside of my house, for sure, but the Chihuahua heeded not my desperate pleas. In fact, the dog was nowhere in sight. I'm sure the workers thought I was pursuing an imaginary escapee.
Deciding that the dog was definitely NOT in the park, I ran around my house to the street on the other side, the only other possible Chihuahua source. First I glanced about wildly to see if his remains were visible in the street. That's when I slipped on some damp leaves and fell backwards into my neighbor's compost heap. By this time I had drawn a crowd, none of whom admitted to having seen a loose Chihuahua.
I've been told that it's not possible to actually feel high blood pressure. Well, I know better. I am certain that mine was pretty much off the map by this time. My screaming was becoming higher pitched, my heart pounding beyond capacity, and I was losing clarity. All the Holy Basil in the world couldn't have saved me.
But I was lucid enough to see that there was no Chihuahua. Breathless, I stumbled back around my house and stood in the entrance to the park. Lo and behold, there was the Chihuahua, basking in the sunlight, pretty as you please, looking at me calmly as if to say," Why, whatever is the matter? Is something wrong?"
I left a message with the veterinarian asking to be contacted if he has any cancellations during the next 6 days.
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4 comments:
Whoops, whirling Betty slipped and flopped onto a steamy compost heap!
Maybe we can pour some tequilla down the Mexican's throat, and use some sharp scissors dipped in alchol.
The Holy Basil . . . I like that!
I can't help but laugh at what Garnet wrote. I can picture the two of you deciding that you'd better drink the tequilla and to hell with the dog. :)
Liz
Garnet and Liz, you know what scares me is that my neighbors, who used the same vet to have their dogs neutered, said he doesn't cut the testicles off- he just pushes them up inside! I'm wondering if that's going to do the trick in my case... The tequilla and scizzors sounds better all the time!
We had our cross collie dog neutered. He no longer chased after bitches but because his scent had changed from dog to neuter we suddenly found him being mounted by every red blooded male dog in the area.
When we went back to the vet and complained about it, he said,"Oh didn't I tell you that that might happen?"
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