Fourteen years ago my sister bought a little half-dachshund, half-chihuahua puppy we call a “dawawa”. I can’t directly say my nephews gave the dog the mange, but let’s just say stress can be a factor.
Being a student, my sister couldn’t afford the expensive treatment to cure the world’s ugliest dog, so I took over. Between me and the three hundred dollars worth of poison dog dip, she healed and I had a new pet.
And to thank me for rescuing her, that darn dog has evacuated her eliminatory system in my house every day since.
|An ungrateful, incontinent chihuahua|
Here’s the drill: I walk the dog and she sprinkles a drop or two all around the neighborhood. I can walk her around for an hour and she’ll still tinkle in the bathroom an hour later.
I don’t think teacup Chihuahuas are particularly smart dogs, but this one is an evil genius with a fourteen year campaign of terror against me and my bath rugs.
I don’t expect much from a dog, just undying gratitude and a dry bath mat.
Have any chihuahua tales?