Roxy

If all has gone well, you see a picture of the new love of my life, Roxy. This is the first of my own pictures I’ve posted! Roxy is 3 pounds of pure love and wiggle, and her goddess is… me! It is a rather humbling experience, actually, even when she is barking at the wind in the middle of the night, waking me out of much needed sleep . Like many Chihuahuas, she sleeps under the covers, curled tightly against me, readily moving whenever I roll over. I don’t stay on my side long-the pain wakes me up-and when I roll back onto my back, she moves agilely and patiently back to her previous spot. She has no complaints.

When Rene told me we were about to acquire our first Chihuahua, Miya, I said, “Oh, no.  Two very large lesbians cannot own such a silly dog!”  Within two days, that dratted dog had wormed her way into our hearts and lives as if she was born to be there. Maybe she was. Miya is now 15, and I cannot imagine ever again living without a Chi! I think this is every Chi owners experience, while all our friends scratch their heads and wonder why we love a barky, possessive, addle brained rat-dog, whose temperament ranges from hyper to more hyper to complete stop.

 

They just don’t see the Chi in the same light as an owner. Our Chi’s bark a lot because they are vicious watchdogs who make strong men step back from the door. They make terrible guard dogs, however; they ignore any visitor’s entry if we are not home. Friends see a hyper dog that runs around while they are here. We see them sleep the rest of the day. Friends worry they are cold because they shiver all the time. We know they shiver when they are cold, hot, excited, interested, surprised, or just engaged in life. Friends laugh at their antics. We roar.

 

Not everyone who owns a Chihuahua owns up to owning one! We had an attorney friend once who said no self respecting gay man would own Chihuahua. He told people his long haired Chi was really a very rare Hawaiian terrier called a “Ch-Hua-Hua.” When people asked how they could get one, he told them you had to know a secret breeder in Hawaii. Some even asked if he had a phone number for one!

 

I think Chihuahuas were put on earth to make us smile. Tia, our elderly, handicapped, rescued Chihuahua oversaw the first half of my recovery. When I was pretty much confined to my recliner for several months, she wanted nothing more than to lie in my lap all day long, followed by lying there all night as well. At times, in the middle of a long night, she was a true lifesaver, just happy to be there in my lap, no matter what I was feeling. Putting her down was a terrible decision to have had to make, though the right one, and I still cry when I think about her.

 

Roxy, although very different, has come to take her place. She is so tiny she makes seven pound Miya look big. She has the energy of a gazelle. She is a great licker of fingers and faces, and she actually fetches stuffed animals twice her size, but only when she has a mind to. As I write in my Journal, or read others, she crawls under my shirt and curls up for a nap. She is there now, wishing I would not move my hands so much.

 

Yesterday, I took her out side and across the street to an empty lot where she can run free. And run she did, like the wild thing she is, back and forth, across and around, up and down almost lost in the taller grass, dashing after a late butterfly, exalting in the glory of an autumn day. As I sat and watched her, I realized that, while I am no longer able to run, I too can exalt in the same glory of the day, and eventually the two of us made our way home, tired but happy.

 

She is my Blessing, Margo