With eleven cats of various descriptions, depending on
what day it is, seven sheep, and one dog, I could have sworn I had enough
pets. By gal’s sister begged to differ. She just had to give me a
Chihuahua for a Christmas present. His name is Bandelaro. "Gosh,"
I said, when forced to accept the non generosity, "that’s the kind of
gift that has been known to get people hanged." Nonetheless my sarcasm
did no good and the little fellow got a home.
He was having a tough time adjusting to the new
surroundings. He missed his mommy, although Lord only knows why. Maybe that’s
why god is dog spelled backward. When I put him out to do his business he’d
turn around at the door insisting it was too cold outside and want to come
back in.
"Alright," I said, "but if you mess in the
house you’re gonna get your nose rubbed in it and thrown outside."
At first he didn’t believe me. I would return from my
walk and be stoking the fireplace when I’d notice I had stepped in doggie
mess. I said..., well never mind what I said. Not being one to lie to small
animals, I had to do what I told him I’d do if he do-dooed, and he did do-doo,
so I did do.
Three or four days of this activity and the Chihuahua was
beginning to decide he didn’t like me, with some justification. He was
laying on the love seat one day when a friend came to see me. We were
commenting on how big his ears were and trying to decide what new name to
give him. Radar ears came to mind for one handle.
"Naw, he looks more like a little rat," I said,
"I think I’ll call him Raton (little rat)."
The Chihuahua gave me an ugly look when I called him
Raton. He seemed to be thinking, "I don’t call you Gordo (fat)."
I laughed and said, "I’m just joking Bandelaro."
He jumped off the couch to come leaping into my lap.
"The name is Bandelaro, senor," he seemed to
say, wagging his tail.
Then he tried to rub his nose on my face. I didn’t like
that. Others may not know where that nose has been, but I do-doo.