My Life With A Queer Chihuahua

I'm. In. Trouble.

You know how you do something funny at the time? Or at the time it just seems legit? I find myself in these moments a lot. I think something is funny so I do it. Then it comes back to bite me in the you know where. 

Now I'm thinking that this story isn't funny at all. 

And I'm immature. And obnoxious. 

And you're not supposed to start a sentence with the word and. 

I have to go back a few years (like 8) to really tell this story. 

I used to have the cutest Pug dog. His name was Petey and was an awesome animal!

Except for the diaper thing. But that is another story for another time. 

And I started that sentence with the word but. 

Petey. Good dog. Very sweet and loving. Here is the thing, though. He only bonded with me. He didn't really bond with anyone else in the family. 

It was a really hard decision, but when I became pregnant with my fourth child (the boy), I realized my hands were too full for me being the only one to take care of Petey. After much agonizing and a lot of pregnancy tears, I decided to find him a home where everyone in the family loved him. 

Not to be all Forrest Gump, but that is all I have to say about that. 

I then decided there would be no more dogs. My heart could not break like this again. 

UNTIL everyone else in the family fell in love with this cute, hairy, spineless chihuahua with an anxiety problem. I have to get him puppy Prozac. 

Yes. He is spineless. 

We named him Hercules. 

Let's recap. No more Petey. Now it's hairy-spineless-Hercules. 

I LOVE animals and there is NEVER a time for any disrespect towards them. Never. 

But if I may be honest; I resented Hercules for a long time. 

He wasn't Petey.

Sure he didn't chow down on a dirty diaper like I do bad things with Carbs, but still. Not. The. Same. 

It's also important to understand I wasn't working at the time so I was left to train Hercules. Feed him. Calmly talk him down from anxiety hill every time the phone rang. 

Well, it was a quiet Tuesday and I was alone when in a moment of resentment and revenge I noticed that Hercules was by the door. I wondered if he were ready to go outside and do his pansy a$$ business. 

That's when the thought came. 

I can train this dog with any phrase that could mean, 'Do you have to go outside?'.

OH! THE THINGS THAT HAPPEN INSIDE MY MIND! 

Delicious!

It didn't take too long to ponder and come up with the phrase..."Hercules! Are you Queer?"

He just looked at me with his cute annoying puppy face. He turned it slightly to one side. 

Then I jumped up and ran to the door from the couch mopping the floor, excitedly repeating the same exact phrase over and over again. 

"Are you Queer? Lets Go!" 

"Are you Queer?!" 

"Are you Queer?! Outside!" 

I found myself humored. I was thrilled at the possibilities!

Funny as one might find this to be...lets think this through. Shall we? 

Kids. Repeat. Everything. E V E R Y T H I N G ! ! ! 

This became a thing in our house. 

Have you ever heard a three year old say the word Queer? 

...To a Chihuahua? 

...That just needs to pee? 

...with the very loving and respected Church Bishop in your living room?

AND...just in case you think to yourself, Aww, no biggie! The Bishop didn't understand what my angelic little toddler was saying. ONLY for him to confirm your worst fear by stating in sheer disbelief, "Did your baby just ask the dog if it's queer?"

HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS ONE!?  

To this day! I kid you not! My last three children firmly believe that being queer means you have to relieve yourself!

Everyday of my present life entails anyone of my younger children ages eight to one years old asking Hercules the said question. But NOW, instead of him just looking up at you in total confusion, I get an excited, spinning, dancing Chihuahua running to the door...Because he's Queer.

That right, People! E V E R Y   D A Y!

I really am ashamed because I have really grown to love this stupid dog. I expect this behavior out of my teenager.