Some people are born to be dog lovers. Some are born to be dog haters. It’s just a rule of life. But it’s funny how the ones that are dog haters think they are capable of escaping a dog's sneaky charm. Their sneaky, vindictive, manipulating charm.
Take my mom for example. She’s a born dog hater. Everything about a dog, from the way they sniff your toes to the way they jump on you, annoys her. It was actually an honest-to-God miracle that she let Lucy, the little Pomeranian Chihuahua puppy I found at work, stay in our home. The first few weeks, I think, were a grace period, since Lucy was still weak from her hospital visit. After the third week, I heard her telling neighborhood walkers and family members alike that she was just putting the word out, that she was looking for a nice family who could care for a little puppy. I was appalled! Here I was, trying to nurse my puppy back to health and my mother was scheming behind my back to give her away! She claimed she had too much heart to just throw the defenseless creature out into the street, which is why she was trying to find a nice decent home for it, but as far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. No one was separating me and Lucy.
Lucy and I went everywhere. In fact, she was starting to become my favorite shopping partner. Dog lovers would stop us to pet and admire Lucy, while dog haters would just stop us and tell us we weren’t allowed inside their store. It didn’t take much to change their mind. Just a simple head tilt and a hind leg jump from Lucy was all it took to let us through with a warning that this was a “special once-in-a-lifetime chance”. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But it made me realize, if Lucy was capable of changing the minds of these so-called dog hater’s, maybe she could do the same for my mom.
She started off by refusing to eat her dog kibble. Just like that. We tried three different brands including a doctor prescribed one, but she walked away from each one. It worried me, since the reason she had gone into the hospital the first time was due to malnourishment and low blood sugar. So, I called the doctor who suggested table scraps. Of course, coming from a Mexican family, we barely know the word “leftovers,” so we just had to add an extra helping when it came to feeding time. Eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, sliced ham and cheese for lunch, non-fat yogurt and rice pudding for a snack, and roast chicken or beef tenderloins for dinner (of course, the menu changed daily, as everyone knows you cant eat the same thing twice without getting tired of it, but for the most part, that’s Lucy’s diet).
Then Lucy started “telling” us her favorite TV shows. She loves old reruns of The Nanny and Sabrina the Teenage Witch (I think it has something to do with the talking cat and those special guest appearences by Chester the pomeranian), and will sit on the couch, not moving at all, until commercial time. Usually, she’ll watch whatever I watch, but the moment Yes, Dear or 7th Heaven comes on, she’ll start barking at the television as any self-respecting human and animal would do. She had a preference for goose feather pillows than the fiber ones. She preferred going to the bathroom in the backyard, rather than the front, since it was more discreet. She is a lady afterall. I’ve even caught her stopping in front of the mirror once in a while, just to look at herself from all angles, to make sure she looked good. Only five months and so brilliant! In fact, it was because of her lady-like personality that my mom realized, this dog wasn’t just any old dog. She was special. Which, I know, all people say about their dogs, but I think that’s only because they’re embarrassed that their dog doesn’t realize their tail is part of their body.
And being that Lucy was special, I couldn’t understand why her being of mixed breed mattered. After all, in this day in age, aren’t mixed people to the human race what Dolce & Gabbana is to fashion? So why aren’t dogs? It happened one day at the local PetSmart where a girl and her poodle met a boy and his mutt.
AMY: Hi, my name is Amy. Cute dog! What is it?
ME: She’s a Pomeranian with a little Chihuahua.
AMY: Oh. She’s mixed? Like a mutt?
There was something about the way she said, “mixed” and “mutt” that unnerved me. She didn’t say it in a mean way, but the way her left eyebrow lifted slightly when she said it, made me put up my guard.
ME: No. She’s not a mutt. She just wanted a little bit of both in her DNA.
AMY: Oh. Well, she‘s still kinda cute.
Kinda cute? I didn’t understand what the deal was with Amy or why she kept making such cruel comments. In my head, I came up with about five comebacks that would’ve totally put her in her place, but instead, I just smiled as she introduced Lucy and me to "Darlene, a full-bred, miniature poodle." Darlene just sat there, her head cocked to the side, gazing into the distance. In truth, she looked like maybe had been dropped several times over and over again. And then again, just for fun. And then once more. If it weren’t for the tongue hanging out of her mouth and the string of drool in the corner, I would’ve thought she was a statue. Full-bred? More like half-dead.
The icing on the cake came when Amy asked why Lucy didn’t have a collar. According to Amy, a dog’s collar spoke volumes about their personality, since it was the only accessory they could wear 24/7. Darlene was wearing a light pink synthetic woven cotton/nylon collar with sparkling rhinestones which made me wonder what level her volume stood at. What Amy didn’t know was that I had taken Lucy’s collar off before walking into the store, on account that I promised she wouldn’t have to wear it inside if she promised not to chase after big dogs during our walk. So you could imagine my delight when I pulled out of my pocket, a Coach Signature jacquard fabric collar with gold leather trim. It was a gift from one of Lucy's many admirers and I knew as I walked away from Amy it was the ultimate final and silent word.
Two days later, I went back to PetSmart to return the toy I had bought for Lucy. It was bigger than I thought it was, so I figured a smaller one would do better. That’s when I saw Amy and Darlene. Did this woman, seriously, have no other place to go? Did she plan her days around taking her dumb dog to pet stores, dogging dogs? Ugh. At least my collar stunt prompted Amy to buy Darlene a new collar, a rhinestone choker that could have easily doubled as one of those bracelets most commonly found at Icing’s or Claire’s. It was actually a pretty good idea, and if Amy wasn’t such a hater, I would’ve given her the proper snaps she deserved for being so creative. But instead, I made sure the little brown C’s on Lucy’s collar were visible through her golden fur.
There we were, standing in the presence of each other, each one waiting for the other person to make the first move. It was like one of those old black and white western movies where the sheriff and a runabout renegade with the words, “the kid” placed after their name, stand in the middle of a dusty town at high noon. But instead of a tumbleweed rolling between us, a black male lab walked on by, sniffing Lucy out, swooning over the adorable little lady. She wasn’t interested so she just yawned and looked away. At that moment, another dog walked by. It was a border collie who was also interested in Lucy, but like before, Lucy wasn’t interested, so she turned away and looked longingly down the aisle at the toys and treats. The first dog, the black lab, took notice of the border collie and growled at it, before lunging at it’s throat! Two grown dogs, shrieking and snarling at each other, over little ol’ Lucy! As their owners struggled to pull back on their leashes with such force, I couldn’t help but look over at Lucy who was now sitting on the floor watching everything play out as if she knew the attention was all for her.
AMY: Can't believe all that fuss over a dog who isn’t even that skinny.
ME: Can't believe you’re trying to outdo Coach with cheap jewelry.
Ok, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it, which is just the same thing, except it’s in a more refined and dignified manner. But it made me realize, it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, full-bred or mixed. All that really matters in life is that you own some designer goods. No, I’m totally kidding! But it sure comes handy when you meet narrow-minded people and their full-bred, half-dead dogs!
Take my mom for example. She’s a born dog hater. Everything about a dog, from the way they sniff your toes to the way they jump on you, annoys her. It was actually an honest-to-God miracle that she let Lucy, the little Pomeranian Chihuahua puppy I found at work, stay in our home. The first few weeks, I think, were a grace period, since Lucy was still weak from her hospital visit. After the third week, I heard her telling neighborhood walkers and family members alike that she was just putting the word out, that she was looking for a nice family who could care for a little puppy. I was appalled! Here I was, trying to nurse my puppy back to health and my mother was scheming behind my back to give her away! She claimed she had too much heart to just throw the defenseless creature out into the street, which is why she was trying to find a nice decent home for it, but as far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. No one was separating me and Lucy.
Lucy and I went everywhere. In fact, she was starting to become my favorite shopping partner. Dog lovers would stop us to pet and admire Lucy, while dog haters would just stop us and tell us we weren’t allowed inside their store. It didn’t take much to change their mind. Just a simple head tilt and a hind leg jump from Lucy was all it took to let us through with a warning that this was a “special once-in-a-lifetime chance”. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But it made me realize, if Lucy was capable of changing the minds of these so-called dog hater’s, maybe she could do the same for my mom.
She started off by refusing to eat her dog kibble. Just like that. We tried three different brands including a doctor prescribed one, but she walked away from each one. It worried me, since the reason she had gone into the hospital the first time was due to malnourishment and low blood sugar. So, I called the doctor who suggested table scraps. Of course, coming from a Mexican family, we barely know the word “leftovers,” so we just had to add an extra helping when it came to feeding time. Eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, sliced ham and cheese for lunch, non-fat yogurt and rice pudding for a snack, and roast chicken or beef tenderloins for dinner (of course, the menu changed daily, as everyone knows you cant eat the same thing twice without getting tired of it, but for the most part, that’s Lucy’s diet).
Then Lucy started “telling” us her favorite TV shows. She loves old reruns of The Nanny and Sabrina the Teenage Witch (I think it has something to do with the talking cat and those special guest appearences by Chester the pomeranian), and will sit on the couch, not moving at all, until commercial time. Usually, she’ll watch whatever I watch, but the moment Yes, Dear or 7th Heaven comes on, she’ll start barking at the television as any self-respecting human and animal would do. She had a preference for goose feather pillows than the fiber ones. She preferred going to the bathroom in the backyard, rather than the front, since it was more discreet. She is a lady afterall. I’ve even caught her stopping in front of the mirror once in a while, just to look at herself from all angles, to make sure she looked good. Only five months and so brilliant! In fact, it was because of her lady-like personality that my mom realized, this dog wasn’t just any old dog. She was special. Which, I know, all people say about their dogs, but I think that’s only because they’re embarrassed that their dog doesn’t realize their tail is part of their body.
And being that Lucy was special, I couldn’t understand why her being of mixed breed mattered. After all, in this day in age, aren’t mixed people to the human race what Dolce & Gabbana is to fashion? So why aren’t dogs? It happened one day at the local PetSmart where a girl and her poodle met a boy and his mutt.
AMY: Hi, my name is Amy. Cute dog! What is it?
ME: She’s a Pomeranian with a little Chihuahua.
AMY: Oh. She’s mixed? Like a mutt?
There was something about the way she said, “mixed” and “mutt” that unnerved me. She didn’t say it in a mean way, but the way her left eyebrow lifted slightly when she said it, made me put up my guard.
ME: No. She’s not a mutt. She just wanted a little bit of both in her DNA.
AMY: Oh. Well, she‘s still kinda cute.
Kinda cute? I didn’t understand what the deal was with Amy or why she kept making such cruel comments. In my head, I came up with about five comebacks that would’ve totally put her in her place, but instead, I just smiled as she introduced Lucy and me to "Darlene, a full-bred, miniature poodle." Darlene just sat there, her head cocked to the side, gazing into the distance. In truth, she looked like maybe had been dropped several times over and over again. And then again, just for fun. And then once more. If it weren’t for the tongue hanging out of her mouth and the string of drool in the corner, I would’ve thought she was a statue. Full-bred? More like half-dead.
The icing on the cake came when Amy asked why Lucy didn’t have a collar. According to Amy, a dog’s collar spoke volumes about their personality, since it was the only accessory they could wear 24/7. Darlene was wearing a light pink synthetic woven cotton/nylon collar with sparkling rhinestones which made me wonder what level her volume stood at. What Amy didn’t know was that I had taken Lucy’s collar off before walking into the store, on account that I promised she wouldn’t have to wear it inside if she promised not to chase after big dogs during our walk. So you could imagine my delight when I pulled out of my pocket, a Coach Signature jacquard fabric collar with gold leather trim. It was a gift from one of Lucy's many admirers and I knew as I walked away from Amy it was the ultimate final and silent word.
Two days later, I went back to PetSmart to return the toy I had bought for Lucy. It was bigger than I thought it was, so I figured a smaller one would do better. That’s when I saw Amy and Darlene. Did this woman, seriously, have no other place to go? Did she plan her days around taking her dumb dog to pet stores, dogging dogs? Ugh. At least my collar stunt prompted Amy to buy Darlene a new collar, a rhinestone choker that could have easily doubled as one of those bracelets most commonly found at Icing’s or Claire’s. It was actually a pretty good idea, and if Amy wasn’t such a hater, I would’ve given her the proper snaps she deserved for being so creative. But instead, I made sure the little brown C’s on Lucy’s collar were visible through her golden fur.
There we were, standing in the presence of each other, each one waiting for the other person to make the first move. It was like one of those old black and white western movies where the sheriff and a runabout renegade with the words, “the kid” placed after their name, stand in the middle of a dusty town at high noon. But instead of a tumbleweed rolling between us, a black male lab walked on by, sniffing Lucy out, swooning over the adorable little lady. She wasn’t interested so she just yawned and looked away. At that moment, another dog walked by. It was a border collie who was also interested in Lucy, but like before, Lucy wasn’t interested, so she turned away and looked longingly down the aisle at the toys and treats. The first dog, the black lab, took notice of the border collie and growled at it, before lunging at it’s throat! Two grown dogs, shrieking and snarling at each other, over little ol’ Lucy! As their owners struggled to pull back on their leashes with such force, I couldn’t help but look over at Lucy who was now sitting on the floor watching everything play out as if she knew the attention was all for her.
AMY: Can't believe all that fuss over a dog who isn’t even that skinny.
ME: Can't believe you’re trying to outdo Coach with cheap jewelry.
Ok, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it, which is just the same thing, except it’s in a more refined and dignified manner. But it made me realize, it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, full-bred or mixed. All that really matters in life is that you own some designer goods. No, I’m totally kidding! But it sure comes handy when you meet narrow-minded people and their full-bred, half-dead dogs!
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