We’re all Chihuahuas

giphy6

It’s been quite a while since I’ve updated everyone on my chihuahua – Max. For new readers, Max is a rat-dog that spices up my life by transmitting love through excessive barking and shaking. Max is in his teen-doggy years, and like most teenagers, he is experimenting with his nether regions. A typical night involves me reading while Max lies next to me – vigorously licking his wiener. Life is not complete until one sees a Chihuahua orgasm, but for those who never will, it entails half of the scrawny body flailing around like MC Hammer putting on a new pair of parachute pants. Each time it happens I sit there and ask myself, “What has my life come to?” 

giphy7

When Max isn’t masturbating, he is usually lying down shivering or trying to entice Christina into playtime. His favorite toys are a green-level Tae Kwon Do belt and an orange frog with no eyes. In previous posts, I have mentioned Max’s singular focus and his ability to exert intense concentration; an example of this focus occurred last night. Christina likes to eat while watching TV but is entirely incapable of multitasking. She will hold a spoonful of food near her mouth for minutes if a show is grasping her attention. This is ideal for Max because he knows that Christina will put her guard down – allowing for a quick gastronomic theft. Yesterday, as usual, Christina was transfixed by an infomercial for closet organizers, and Max seized the opportunity – he ended up eating an entire drumstick – bone and all.

giphy11

Upon this python-like feat, Christina began to panic and like any 21st-century woman – she immediately got on Google. For the next hour, while trying to watch the Lions game, I heard my wife read articles about dogs dying from chicken bones and how we should monitor Max’s crap for the next 99 hours. She ended up spoonfeeding the dog oatmeal so that his stomach would be protected from the razor edges of the bone – all while Max was trying to play with his orange frog. Max survived with minimal discomfort, and in the end, the only member of the Oldham family who had a stomach ache was my wife – at one point she was ready to rush Max to the emergency room. This whole ordeal made me think that we are all like Chihuahuas. Max shakes and is scared most of the time. Unlike Max’s physical shaking, we are always mentally shaking.

giphy10

We worry about things that have no real impact on our lives. Max has to worry about being squished or dying of hypothermia at temperatures of 75 degrees. What real dangers lurk around the corner for us? Most of our worries revolve around social status or future plans – things that are intangible and hard to control. So when we look at these small dogs are we not just looking at ourselves? When I ask Max – “Why are you shaking?” – shouldn’t I be asking myself the same question? Extending this analogy, do we also have a loving-Filipina woman looking out for us when we accidentally eat a metaphorical chicken bone?  We do but multiply that Filipina by a billion, and you have God. God cares for our shaky insignificant problems – He loves us more than we can comprehend – virtually the same as a dog’s understanding of his owner’s love. In the end, Max yet again gave me some wisdom, but hopefully next time it won’t require me to examine his poop.

img_0521

My Chihuahua – Max

Escaped Chihuahua!

img_0535

Of all the dogs that run away each year, the Chihuahua is the least likely. A Chihuahua by nature is a helpless creature that parasitically thrives off the heat and comfort of its owner. No Chihuahua ever enthusiastically runs to the door to go wee wee. Most Chihuahuas feign the outdoors unless it mirrors their natural desert habitat. Max, my Chihuahua of 8 months now, is almost always by my side. He lies on my lap and I pet him like Doctor Evil. If I have a book in my lap, he lays on my legs. If I have something on my legs he lays on my feet. The dog is always seeking human touch. In general, he has more ADHD than a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. At any given moment he is alert to his surrounding environment-especially whenever the refrigerator door opens. I believe Max to be some kind of mix between a Chihuahua, a dingo, and Will Ferrell in Elf. I keep learning new things from Max that make me a better person. I would recommend to everyone that they own an animal. Animals teach responsibility, respect, compassion, unselfishness, and patience. So what has Max taught me on this glorious Sunday? Well, that Chihuahuas can run away.

As stated previously, Max is always by my side. So how the frick did a seven-pound-deer-headed-pea brained Chihuahua escape from the house? It all started with my desire to talk on the phone with my old roommate-while on the porch of my house. It being almost 70 degrees outside I wanted to bask in the glorious sun which has been absent for the past 4 months. I took my chair, my phone, and my Chihuahua outside. While talking with my roommate, Max sat peacefully on my lap while taking in the rare solar heat. All was well with the world until Max started to get comfortable. See, Chihuahuas are very timid up until a certain point. They have an action potential of meekness which is negated whenever they sit in one place for a period of time. By sitting on my lap on the porch, Max became the king of the porch-anyone who came close was in his territory. While chatting with Chris, his action potential was bathed in some sort of Chihuahua gusto, and Max began to bark at every single thing that came past his wooden domain. Adults. Dogs. Children. Grandmas. Leafs. Paper Bags. Nothing was safe from his wrath and I subsequently threw him inside because of the interruptions to my conversation. As earlier stated, Max must have human contact at all time. After constant whining, Christina opened the door and let him come to me; he quickly regained his state of superiority which subsequently forced me to throw him back inside. It was at this point that I must have not shut the door completely.

In about a half hour, Christina was heard through the window frantically calling for Max. I thought nothing of it because I figured he may be snuggled under a synthetic human substitute-his blanket. But there was no miniature deer to be found under the many blankets which are exclusively for his comfort. This sent a wave of panic through my spine and I thought he may actually have run away. The house was checked and now my wife was going all Filipino on me. I asked myself why would Max leave the porch? He has never left my side. Nevertheless he was gone and we were contemplating the worse – that a hawk swooped down and grabbed his rat-like body. Thinking that he couldn’t have gone very far, I scanned the neighborhood from my porch. I didn’t see anything at first but then my eyes caught a small figure in the far distance. It was Max, in the road, starring at a stop sign as if he could read it-with a car rapidly descending in the foreground. I called his name and as if nothing happened he ran back to me with haste. I embraced him with the utmost ferment as if this little dog was my own child. So why did Max leave the porch? I will never know the answer but it has taught me a lot about my relationship with this dog.

I actually care about him and would be extremely sad if he died. I actually appreciate that his brain and balls may be bigger than I had previously thought. I actually need to respect that he is a strong dog and not a mutated rat. The moral of the story is this: When life gives you a metaphorical Chihuahua, a situation that you don’t respect or appreciate, think twice before making judgments and discounting it. That Chihuahua may highlight your vulnerabilities, making you more emotionally sensitive and more appreciative of what you have. I know my Chihuahua did.

The Wet Belly Mystery

img_0521

“The” Wet Belly

It was the best of times and the worst of times. Last week Tuesday, I was having the best of days. The sun was out, the weather was pleasant, the leaves were colorful, my wife was looking sexy, and my pants were feeling loose. It was one of those Tuesdays when you almost think it’s a Friday. Feeling on top of the world, I decided to take Max, my single-minded Chihuahua, for his most favorite activity in the world – a walk in the park. Max was running through an open field full of grass, leaves, trees, sunshine, groundhogs, and the occasional cluster of white-dog poop. Being in a state of complete relaxation I didn’t notice when my pea-brain dog began to rub his neck in some putrid-smelling substance that was either a dead animal or a concentrated pocket of mud that had been overly exposed to Flint-river water. Whatever the source of the stench, I did not discover it until I came home and bent down to take off his leash. His neck smelled like a trashcan that had been sitting out in the hot sun after a pouring rain – wet, thick, and unbearable. I immediately took him to the shower and began to use the best treatment I had – Head and Shoulders Anti Dandruff Shampoo. Max was all about the shampoo and I think he may have done the stinky neck thing on purpose just to get the extra neck massage. He looked like a wet rat after the soak and I wrapped him tightly in a towel and rubbed his whole body until his fur was barley wet. He bolted out the bathroom door and jumped onto the couch like a crackhead during a bad trip –rubbing his body at random all over the cushions. This was approximately at 5:00 pm.

Around 8:00 pm I was watching TV and heard Max enter the bathroom. This did not bring me much thought because being a Chihuahua, Max is always ADHD and running around the house. I had just used the bathroom and I thought it normal that he was smelling around to access the damage. I heard a faint noise in the bathroom but took it as him trying to get into the trash for some yummy Q-Tips – nothing out of the norm.  At about 8:10 I walked into the living room to give my sexy wife a big kiss and to tell her how amazing she was – again nothing out of the norm. But then, Christina looks over and there are water spots on the couch. At first we thought Max must have peed and we commence a frantic, grab-the-dog-and-throw-him-outside maneuver. Upon grabbing the spindly dog I felt his belly and it was completely wet. I lifted the animal to my nose and performed a thorough smelling – my sense of smell, being a sensitive-introvert, is above average. The liquid was not urine but rather water. I then noticed that the top of the couch, where Max usually sits, was completely soaked in water. I used five large paper towels to soak up the liquid and it again was odorless without any color. This was extremely odd, Max had a wet belly, he dripped water on the couch and his normal sitting area was drenched. We thought this was the extent of the wet-belly fiasco but then Christina, beginning to do her homework again, noticed water on the keyboard. As soon as she touched the keyboard the screen went black. This began a two hour ordeal of Christina going full-out Filipina and me trying to use my limited computer skills to perform a miracle. By 10:00 pm the computer was still not turning on, my Friday-like Tuesday was now a post vacation Monday, and I felt like returning Max back to the Humane Society. In the end we had to pay 400 dollars for a new laptop but thankfully Christina’s work was still safe in the hard drive.

img_0522

Signs of Guilt

To this day I have no idea how Max got his wet belly. Did he get into the water dish, the toilet, the post-shower tub? Did his bladder somehow expand to the size of a grown man? I have lost my mind trying to figure out the mystery of the wet belly. Max and I are on tenuous terms and I don’t know if I can ever again trust him around my laptop. What do you think is the riddle of the wet belly? What caused my Chihuahua to turn into a wet burrito? Why do I have a Chihuahua in the first place? All questions that need to be answered. Yet another life-lesson learned from Max – when you have a brain the size of pea you are apt to have a wet bellow at any moment.

img_0520

Post Makeup

 

Our New Dog

Last Saturday, I became the owner of a 2-year-old Chihuahua named Max. Max was a rescue dog from the Humane Society; he was dropped off by an older woman who could no longer take care of him because of her health problems. Max is energetic, loving, timid, and very much an introvert. The first time we met, Max growled at me and was shaky when I gently tempted to pet him. He takes a lot of time getting use to people and I imagine the old lady didn’t socialize him very much. In all honesty, I wasn’t that excited to get a dog-I knew it would be a lot of money and work. However, Christina wanted a fur baby and I guess this scraggly-rat dog is what fit the bill. Max has grown on me this past week with our several bonding activities: me saying “go potty” five hundred times, trying to read with half his body laying on my book, yelling at him not to bark at every noise, teaching him tricks which he never performs, and incessant petting of his bony-chicken body.  They say dogs are like their owners-he likes tortilla chips and the couch like me-he is feisty, shy, and tiny like my wife. We had to stick with the name, Max, because his brain is the size of a pea and we can’t put the mental strain on him that requires an identity change. I think the most fitting name for him would be Kermit because his cuteness is tinged with a weird ugliness and he makes a frog noise whenever he wants something. After a week, I have slowly come to accept this little dog into my life and I think over time we will have a lot of fun together.

To further solidify my bond with Max, I did some Wikipedia research on the history of the mighty Chihuahua.

-Chihuahuas originated in Mexico and were companion dogs dating back to 300 BC.

-It was reported by Spanish Conquistadors, that the Aztecs raised little-nearly hairless dogs for food; many of which were found in the region later known as Chihuahua.

-There are two types of Chihuahua head shapes, apple head and dear head. The apple head variety is accepted for competitions and displays a shorter nose. The dear head is closer to the ancient variety of Chihuahua and resembles the head of a small fawn.

The final thing I learned, which I am still digesting, is that Chihuahuas have the longest lifespan of any dog breed, 12-20 years. So here is a toast, to a long life together with this ancient dog that was once raised for food…which I now call my friend.

The Word is the Bird

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The variety of birds on this earth is truly amazing with almost 10,000 unique species. My depth of bird knowledge is very limited and I honestly only know a handful: robin, blue jay, crow, parrot, cardinal, turkey, and big bird. I was interested in reading something other than Teddy Roosevelt killing birds, so I picked up The Birds of Pandemonium by Michele Raffin. This lady freaking loves birds!!! She has over 250 and runs a sanctuary/breeding operation for birds that are endangered. Parrots, as I learned, have the intelligence of a 3 year old and the subsequent personality; they love attention, can speak short phrases, dance, and have screaming tantrums. The obsession Michele has for birds is extremely respectable and I commend her mission of conserving bird species. Birds have personalities and they can feel emotions just like humans. Sadly, people buy birds as pets and they don’t understand the investment needed to care for them (certain parrot species can live up to 50 years). Life happens and bird owners die, their houses gets foreclosed, or they marry a bird hater. This creates the sad situation of the bird being transferred between many homes throughout its life. Thankfully, there are people like Michele who have the heart and patience for these neglected creatures.

A large portion of the exotic birds in the US were originally wild and taken from their habitat to fill the cage of some fat-old lady who wants a “Pretty Bird.” The mass removal of birds from their habitat reduced several species’ numbers to endangered levels. Miraculously, legislation was passed in 1993 to limit the importation of certain birds. This legislation helped, but people still purchase exotic birds in the US that are bred in unhealthy and inhumane conditions. As humans, we grow attached to animals and this is hard wired into our evolutionary make up. They become our friends and we treat them many times as if they were our children. I think this quote by Irving Townsend sums up our feelings for pets; “We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan.” Any pet, whether it is a dog, a potbelly pig, or a bird should not be purchased unless the owner can take full responsibility for the animal throughout its life. An animal should not be purchased without deep thought and time to contemplate the personal sacrifices. Before you buy that parrot, you better be prepared for it to call you “ASSHOLE” every morning until you are an old man (this is exactly what Michelle’s parrot calls her husband). The responsibility of a life, whether it is an animal or human, is the greatest responsibility a person can take on. Make sure you know the breeder, the animal’s upbringings, yourself, your family, your intentions, your realistic future dwellings, your finances, and your level of patience before buying any type of pet. If done responsibly, the bond you form with a pet will make you less selfish and more understanding of the fragility of life-allowing you to better appreciate your own existence.

To learn more about Michele and her bird sanctuary visit http://www.pandemoniumaviaries.org/