Small dogs loom large in lives of owners

By Karen Nace

They’re Mastiffs trapped in small bodies. Unaware, Chihuahuas enliven their days with terrifying bursts of growls, yips and snips.


Any person, animal or dust bunny should be aware of this breed. He is extremely territorial. Though the self-important Chihuahua doesn’t realize it, all this tough-guy demeanor is quite comical.


Take the case of the UPS man who wanders into Chihuahua territory. The doorbell rings and the door opens.

A Chihuahua attacks his brown shoelaces and won’t let go. The UPS man tries to shake off the dog, but the fierce canine only strengthens his clamp. The UPS man laughs and walks away only after the owner contains Killer. Good thing the UPS man was wearing his brown boots.

A Chihuahua waits under the bed, knowing the house cleaner will be in to change the sheets. She temporarily piles bedspread and pillows on the floor at the end of the bed. The Chihuahua is patient. At the right time he crawls commando-style to his reconnaissance point under the end of the bed. As the housekeeper deftly snaps the bedspread back into place, Psycho Dog lunges, aiming for the shins and scaring her half to death. Next time she remembers to wear boots.

Ever the hunter, Mr. Outdoorsman regularly faces off with a baby possum under the shed. The foolish Chihuahua struts away with head held high, pretending he didn’t get nipped in the snout. Rabies shots are up to date.

Though hobbies include “fencing” raccoons and barking menacingly at the meter man (a monthly highlight), the Chihuahua hasn’t quite gotten the hang of chasing squirrels. One mystery endures: Where do the squirrels disappear to when they get to the big tree? Duh.

The neighborhood owls congregate on the fence to ponder: Is this noisy little chunk of meat worth the trouble? Whoooo could do it? The squirming, snapping 7-pounder would require at least two hefty night-hunters. They have not yet summoned the energy.

The feisty Chihuahua, however, has energy to spare, when he is not lolling about in a sunbeam. He attacks visitors, then morphs into a loving lapdog. As they get up to leave, however, Mr. Split Personality goes back into attack mode. He must have the last word.



How can he attack a 350-pound man yet cower at the windshield wipers, which are only doing their job. He trembles at the sound of “bath,” “vet” and “go for a ride.” The words “storming,” “raining,” “lightning” and “thundering” strike fear into the Chihuahua but evil glee into his owner. It’s just so much fun, yet so pitiful.

Despite his peculiarities and laughable antics, this Chihuahua greets us when we get home, snuggles with his family member of the day and provides affection that is both therapeutic and comical.

His name is Skip: ever loyal, ever vigilant, and ever psychotic. I think we’ll keep him.

This column was originally published 10/3/04 in The Facts newspaper - Clute, Texas