You weigh four pounds. You refuse to be house trained. You shake like a leaf when your excited. Cold. Scared. Let’s just be honest. Your always shaking. At everything.
And just this morning, the kids call to me from upstairs.
“Mooo-oom! Here comes Yoda!
He has a message for you.”
Here, now the pitter patter of little claws. And then the arrival of one little dog, paper message tucked behind collar. Faithfully, you deliver the message (Ok. We can admit it. You weren’t so much delivering it as you were returning to the feet of the one whom you’ve deemed your human mommy. Yes. That’s me.) You bend your head down, silently asking me to free you from the paper nuisance tucked near your skin. You’re shaking. (of course). I remove the slip from your collar.
“The kids need tape”
Laughing, I grab a bit of tape and attach it to you. The kids are giggling upstairs. Waiting anxiously.
“Go upstairs. Go, Yoda, Go.”
You sit. You stare. You shake.
I walk upstairs to deliver the tape. You walk upstairs, following. Shaking.
Is it any wonder Lassie wasn’t a chihuahua?