I’m trying to keep things light around here, what with NaBloPoMo and all, so I’m purposely avoiding discussing anything heavy going on in my Real Life.
And, really, what could be more lighthearted and joie de vivre than an entire post dedicated to the misadventures of an unbelievably adorable puppy?
I had read that chihuahuas have no concept of just how small they are. Our veterinarian mentioned their ten-feet-tall and bulletproof nature. Henry is totally living up to that badass chihuahua rep. He takes on the world with utter fearlessness and doesn’t back down from anything.
Except the kitchen’s vinyl flooring. And his water bowl.
I set Henry down in the middle of the kitchen floor the other day while I was preparing his food. He froze, looked around, and – seeing no immediate escape route – sat there helplessly and whined until I rescued him.
When confronted with his water bowl, he backs away slowly, then turns tail and runs the hell away from there. If he’s extreeeeeemely thirsty, he might take a few laps of water; but then he gets his butt away from that spooky, creepy water.
Henry folds himself in half in order to bite (not nibble seductively…chomp masochistically) his own…umm…boy parts. I find it repulsive, but also a bit fascinating.
Henry doesn’t seem to know what to do with his tail, after he catches it.
We’re fairly certain Henry has worms, since he’s been doing the butt-scootin’-boogie the last few days. Our veterinarian, as it turns out, is in freakin’ Hawaii, so we’ll have to wait until Friday to get Henry’s pooper problem taken care of.
Henry loves to play rough, grabbing fingers (or toes) (or noses) (or ears) (or pretty much anything he can get his razor-sharp puppy teeth into) and pulling for all he’s worth, all the while growling fiercely. And when I say fiercely, I mean if Henry’s growl were a person, it’d be Norman Needermeyer, the only boy in ninth grade gym class without pubic hair, and the tallest member of the Vienna Boys’ Choir.