A couple weeks ago on the blog, I talked about the trip my wife was taking to Florida and that she would be returning with mocha, a two and a half pound chihuahua, that would be the newest member of our family. I believe the best description for how I felt once it was decided, is that was less than thrilled, but I made the compromise and actually started to look forward to having a dog around the house over the past few days, but then I got some other news. My wife actually won’t be returning with one dog, she’ll be coming back to Memphis with two! If you saw me right now you might think the tears streaming down my face are those of joy and excitement about getting another dog, but let me dissuade you from that idea right now. There is nothing happy in these tears; there is only misery, sadness, and hatred for what my life is about to become.
Jack is Mocha’s father, a black chihuahua that is playful about two minutes out of every day when he isn’t sleeping or begging for food. His hobbies include barking at any noise he thinks he might have heard outside the house and attacking people who he isn’t familiar with, take for instance, the cable guy who came to our house in Florida to set up the TV a few years ago. He wasn’t inside for fifteen seconds before Jack bit his ankle with a fury of a much more dangerous breed of dog. You will never again eat a meal in piece because this guy will jump up beside your chair and put his paws on you until he’s given what he wants, and don’t even think about kicking him away. Apparently that’s illegal. Jack lives a life of uncaring freedom, and doesn’t live by the societal rules that say where it is acceptable to use the bathroom. He goes wherever he feels like it, whenever he feels like it, the kitchen, the brand new doormat, the dark hallway that he basically turns into a slip n’ slide with the slight lift of his rear leg.
How could you not want a dog like Jack? You know what, since we’re all friends here, this is what I’m willing to do for you. If you think you can provide a good home for this angry and perpetually hungry dog, and are willing to let him defecate throughout your life at all hours of the day, then I will let you have him. We just can’t tell my wife. This is going to be pretty interesting to see how all this works out, going from not having any pets to having two loud dogs. The oddsmakers in Vegas are putting the over/under at ten on how many days until I can’t take it anymore and jump off my balcony. I haven’t seen Jack in almost eight months so there’s a really good chance that he won’t recognize me and attack when he walks through the door tomorrow, or maybe he will know who I am and just bite me out of spite.