Sitting on my couch, cover falling from either corner and looking like a dilapidated mess that you might find inside your neighborhood's crazy cat lady's house, I noticed that my iced coffee had run dry. Now, fully caffeinated and bored, I decided to make the greatest game known to man. Yes, it's like God almighty personally rifled down a lightning bolt in the form of an ingenious idea to my usually meager brain.
I had two small chihuahuas on either side of me and plenty of time at my disposal, so I picked each up in a hurried rush and instantly thought of rock em sock em robots. Chihuahuas, my friends, are like little puppets --possibly muppets but even cuter-- and as so, are at the whim of your greatest fantasies. My fantasy, being the respectable gent I am, strayed ever so far from the typical Appalachian menage-a-dog, and merely involved using my tiny creatures to box each other. Jasmine held Yeti and I held Lolo. We counted to three. One.. Two.. Three!
The dogs growled and growled at each other. With each second we held them next to each other, the decibels reverberated by their vocal cords reached dizzying heights. They punched each other, but to my dismay, no robotic head ever popped off. I learned a valuable lesson... Dogs are not robots. Nor are chihuahuas alien robot cyborgs.
Monday, July 13, 2009
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