I despise chihuahuas. With the exception of only TWO Atlanta, Georgian chihuahuas I know personally, I can’t stand the rest. Their barks sounds like a mix between a cat’s meow and an alarm clock, their bodies are the size of a squirrel’s which means they aren’t really dogs, and honestly they’re just flat out annoying. (I feel like I should include “All opinions written here are my own” just to be safe.) I didn’t feel this strongly about the little things until I moved to Vienna where it seems like chihuahuas run the city. Seriously, they’re everywhere. I see their tiny heads poking out of purses, out of jackets, out of shopping bags. Some are spoiled enough to get their own strollers. And it’s not just women who proudly strut (or push) the chihuahuas around, it’s men too. Like large, manly, bearded men, guaranteed to crack you up every time one of them passes you by holding a bright pink, rhinestone studded leash.
Yesterday I almost drop-kicked one over a building for messing up my work and scaring me half to death. Our office has just recently installed a brand new display case outside the building and it’s my job to make sure all of the information inside is up to date. I popped outside suited up in my rain gear as the weather here is miserable, and carefully open the glass door only enough to get my hand in the window. The wind was something else, and I was afraid it would blow up into the window and send all the fliers up and away, so I very slowly moved one magnet up with my pinky while the rest of my hand held down the flier that needed to be removed and my other hand kept the door in place. I almost had the flier out when this itsy bisty black chihuahua appeared out of nowhere, nipping at my ankles and barking its fist-sized head off. In trying to get the dog away from me I let go of the glass door and all of the fliers and magnets went flying down the sidewalk. The dog’s owner finally arrived at the scene and yelled at his dog to stop attacking me, meanwhile I ran down the sidewalk yelling “Waaaaaaaaaait!” at the fliers like a crazy person. I picked up one, then two, then three, and by the time I had the fourth one in hand I looked up just in time to see the glass door on its way to swinging itself shut. I immediately pictured shattered glass and lots of trouble. I sprinted back down the sidewalk, this time yelling “Noooooooooooooo!” at the display case. I wedged my arm in between the frame and the door just as it was going to close, which hurt and further increased my hatred for the evil little dog. After a few seconds of pouting over my sad arm, I continued on with my display case job and finally had everything back where it was… ten minutes later.
So if you own a chihuahua, you’re probably a brave person. Or perhaps a patient person. Or a tolerant person. I own a cat and sometimes I don’t have the patience for him (especially when he wakes me up for food at 2 in the morning). Maybe this chihuahua was a fluke of a dog and is the only one who lives its life in constant attack mode, I don’t know. But I do know that I certainly, most positively, never ever want to own a chihuahua.