First off I would like to state that today is not *actually* V's birthday.
It is the anniversary of the day that I brought him home, since I am not sure of his actual birthdate. Besides, I've been working on a theory for years stating that no particular noun actually begins existence until after they have met me so... good enough.
September 1, 2008
A year ago today I brought you home. You peed all over my passenger seat. Not much has changed.
I named you Vader because of the design on the back of your neck. It looked just like Yin and Yang and it reminded me of a story that my History teacher Mr. Balk told us about Taoism in relation to Star Wars.
Naming you that was a mistake.
You destroy everything in your path: video games, $100 bills, necklaces, large stuffed animal kangaroos, the alleged goat, just to name a few of your conquests. You are the most whiney, needy, horribly disobedient, destructive animal I have ever met. You make the dog from Marley and Me seem like an angel and you are roughly one third his size.
All the while with those big, greenish brown eyes and that little head tilt and the best puppy cuddles in the world. Which is why I love you anyway, my little alien/chupacabra.
Oh that's right. I'm on to you.
The night I brought you home, you were a tiny , still floppy eared baby chihuahua/"other" mix puppy. Or so I thought. You now weigh roughly twenty pounds, your spine is roughly twice the length it should be, your nose keeps on growing, your legs look like a Corgie's, and your chest is twice as wide as your rear.
You also have bat ears...
November 6, 2008
Even more damaging is that call back to the mother ship with that horrible wookie-esque sound that you make when you're upset with me. No dog ON EARTH makes that sound, but you.
Which made me think. I started trying to decide what your Dad could have possibly been. For a long time I settled on unknown alien specimen who saw a Taco Bell ad from the late 90s and decided to come check out the ladies. Then a couple months back something happened that changed my mind.
You started losing all your hair. All. Of. It.
Do you realize how scary that was for me? I took you to the vet: no mange, no fleas, you were an inside dog, the vet had no clue what could cause that. Luckily a series of random antibiotics and steroids did the trick, but by that time you had lost almost all your hair right up to your neck (which has just now finished growing back).
I was harboring... El Chubacabra.
Or his bastard offspring, really. That was the truth of the "other" in the chihuahua and "other". Really, how easy would it be for Mr. Chubacabra to gain access to a chihuahua? Even monstrously, hideous beasts of urban lore get lonely. It's perfect. The answer had been right in front of me, it just took a seriously receding hairline to show me the light.
Luckily, I think you take more after your Mom so your more annoying and "yippy" than actually dangerous. You've always been sweet and adorable (even if everyone else tells you your misshapen and weird looking), which is why you're still alive after eating not one, but TWO of my DS cartridges. Besides, you're getting better all the time and I think the ol' apartment just wasn't for you. A backyard will serve your energy and my corresponding stress levels well.
Just don't push it, okay?
Happy Birthday, Vaders.
September 1, 2009