What next for the Chihuahua?

No vote was taken. The mangy critter was staying. Tigger and I needed to resolve ourselves to deal with the infiltrator. And just before the girl went back to school that fateful fall, we found out that the furry, uninvited guest now known as Fernando, was named after her favorite futbol star. Funny, little did we all know that soon the cute little precious would grow up into a beastie and start tackling us and playing foul with us just for fun. Stinker would have been more appropriate!

Everyone believed Fernando would settle down eventually. But as the weeks passed, NADA changed. His favorite pastimes? Wrestling poor Tigger, who is no spring chicken. And then there was the chase the Chihuahua, pounce and chew on her butt. Nope, this Chico may have been pretty to look at, but the hombre had a fickle streak, and muchos tricks up his sleeves. Que cute, my foot!

(Looks so innocent! Yeah, right!)

Oh, and hang on to your pantalones, turned out he even liked to eat Cheerios! My Cheerios!! What was this world coming to when even a Chica’s morning ritual “fetching” of the Cheerios was no longer sacred! Ay, Dios!

Look! Evidence: Hit and run! Call my lawyer!!!

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Nobody asked me!

Are you thinking it has been too quiet on the Chihuahua from western Florida front? Well, amigos, you are right. But actually much has been happening in the last year. It is the Chica that has had a little trouble keeping up. But you’ll soon understand. Allow me to catch you up with my cuento …

You see, there came a new Cato to town. “Que?!?” You say? Well, so did I! But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you the story from way back when all this madness began. My therapist says it will help me “process.” Si, como no! Right?

As you might imagine, were having a great summer. The kids came home from college. We laughed, we played, there was mucho belly rubbing and chihuahua adoration during family movie nights. I was in my glory, soaking it all in and trying to forget that August would ever come around. The familia went on a couple of summer trips to which I was not invited (still working on forgiveness for those) but they came back to me every time and made up for leaving me behind with extra treats and scratchies.

Unfortunately, time does fly when la Chica is having fun and before we knew it we were packing the kids up to go back to college. Can you believe it? Our girl was going to be a senior, our boy a sophomore already!

But just as August came and the unavoidable sadness began to descend upon the household, POW, there came what will forever be known as the Cat-tastrophe of 2012. Stay tuned for more episodes of the tail that would not quit … Ferrrrrrrrrnando.

The Chihuahua that almost ate Christmas

I just love all the excitement around the house at Christmas time. Mom, Dad and the kids go around decorating everything with pretty and sparkly things. The humans even bring a tree inside at my Casa! I say every dog needs their own tree — to chase squirrels up to (or maybe pesky catos, heh, heh); to rest by at the end of a good day’s labor (napping, er, I mean guarding the Casa all day); and, oooooooh, to explore the marvelous smells of nature! Every sniff is a new mystery that the Chica must investigate!

And the familia always has a great time setting the tree up. The kids each have special ornaments that they always put on the tree. Mama made the angel back when she and Dad first celebrated Christmas together. And Dad always reminds the Cato and I that we are not “allowed” to nap on the velvety tree skirt (sure, sure 😉 )

Christmas at Casa Chanel

Ah, these traditions always bring fond memories of Christmases past, in particular, my very first Christmas …

You see, there is this little lamb that came with the Nativity scene that Mama carefully puts out every year underneath the Christmas tree. I didn’t know it then, but it is the first Nativity scene she bought when she moved away from home. And well, though it is a little plastic lamb, it looked delectable to me then. Still does. So when all the peeps were looking the other way, I made my lightning-speed, precision attack and snatched that puppy up. I should have known better, but I was young and impulsive in those days. And I hadn’t learned just how much these precious traditions mean to my peeps.

I slunk off in my finest stealth mode and stole away to my blanket, salivating at the thought of hours of good chewing I’d get out of my prize catch. Chew, chew, chew. Lick, lick, lick. Gag, gag (just a little to cleat the throat) and REPEAT.

The Christmas music was playing, the televised footage of the roaring fireplace was “warming” the scene (we were still enjoying flip-flops weather, but the ambiance we had created was winter wonderland cozy.) Everyone was talking, laughing and reveling in the Christmas spirit and I was throughly enjoying my “Christmas” snack. When Mama suddenly got the notion of taking pictures to capture the tender moment. I must admit I was a little distracted. I was still young and had not developed my full efficient canine guard machine skills. So I didn’t notice that she was looking for me to be in the picture too.

Gnaw… gnaw … lick, lick … chomp, chomp … then WHOOOPS, I suddenly sensed something wasn’t quite right! I looked up to find Mama STARING down at me, hands on her hips, chancleta-clad foot tapping furiously, and brown eyes blazing some serious Cuban disapproval. Stopping at mid chomp, I extricated the little lamb (which no longer looked particularly sweet and tender) from my mouth. Ay, caramba, I knew I was in mucho trouble! I tried my best to moisten my eyeballs for an emergency puppy/bambi-eyed look, pleading forgiveness. It is a self-preservation mechanism, you know. But there was no denying the facts, I had been caught in the act and enjoying it just a little too mucho. My only hope was to appear as contrite as a Chihuahua could be. We actually get a lot of practice at this art because, well, a Chihuahua will be a Chihuahua — low to the ground scroungers to the last!

And then as Mama bent over to snatch the lamb away and who knows what else, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and concentrated on beaming a telepathic plea, “But Mama, Baby Jesus would not mind. He always forgives the Chica for her little trespasses.” I cringed, prepared for many of her more colorful Spanish words, spoken in that particular Cuban “volume and speed” that adjusts as her temper rises.  But then, somehow it WORKED!!!!! She sighed, patted my head and laughed as she carried what was left of the lamb away, shaking her head.

Mama's little lamb ... or what is left of it

That was the day that this Chica learned that Love IS the true meaning of Christmas. And I had not ruined the happy day. La Chica and the spirit of Christmas were here to stay.

Ever since I only get to see my little lamb from afar at Christmas time. Mama still puts out the same Nativity set, but my lamb stays up on the bookshelf. Ahhh … so close and yet so far. Its back left leg sticks out a little, in mangled fashion. Still, it reminds me of that first Christmas of my youth, the first with my awesome human family, and brings a sweet carol to my heart …