Some of the writing cues from the San Francisco Writer’s Grotto are great–some not so much. Today’s is one of the less inspiring ones. Maybe it has to do with my feelings about Chihuahuas and dog tropes in general. Here’s the assignment:
As a talking Chihuahua, what would you tell your humans about the new crying baby who now lives with you?
I’m not fond of Chihuahuas. I love dogs, but the breed seems to suffer from a huge Napoleon complex and is far too yappy. The only Chihuahua I adored was my son’s high school girlfriend’s dog, Clyde. Clyde looked like Jake from “Adventure Time” and was a severely overweight Chihuahua topping at around 35 lbs. He was about 13 years old. He wheezed like a little old man and had the soul of a curmudgeon, barely tolerating the other dogs in the house and his humans. Clyde was great.
The trope about the faithful companion alerting their humans of issues seems inane to me. I was too young for the original show Lassie on TV but I remember catching a few episodes on re-runs in syndication. Frankly, if I had been Lassie, I would have locked Timmy in the damn house with the rest of the humans in the neighborhood, so I could have gotten a day’s rest from saving everyone’s lives. Dogs should be dogs, not early emergency warning systems.
But here’s my dog speech to my humans who have brought a baby into the house
“Dear Human and fellow dwellers in the house. I want to issue a complaint about the hairless puppy aka “baby” you have brought home recently. I am quite adaptable to change in routines, as long as my needs are met, but enough is enough. I am suffering from a dearth of attention and this situation is not tenable going forward.
I have tried to bond with the said hairless pup to no avail. I have tried to share his pet bed as well as your lap when you are holding him, and you have done nothing but shout at me, banishing me to another room, sometimes behind a closed door! I have dropped some of my second favorite toys in his pet bed and you have disdainfully removed them, saying they are full of dog germs and calling me a “bad girl”.
Finally, I have tried to teach him the song of my people and joined in him when he apparently is in distress, to teach him the correct pitch and tone. This has only caused you to pick up the pup, carrying him out of the room. Eliciting a “Can’t that damn dog shut up” from your lips, you have the audacity to then ban me to the backyard when all I was doing was trying to sympathize with this stupid thing you have thoughtlessly brought into our happy home.
So I am therefore requesting that you send the pup back to the kennel from whence it came and that life be set back to status quo immediately.
Your affectionate, but despondent dog”
skullwoman 