Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Not man's best friend


As many of you already know, I am the owner of a small, male chihuahua, named Bentley. And, like any proud parent, I really do believe that he is superior in every way to all other dogs, and lets face it, some children.

Long have I wanted a small dog that would remain a puppy forever. And, after years of searching, I found an acceptable little companion. Little did I know, however, that this cute, furry little accessory would wiggle his way into my heart.

Granted, I did know that I would love him, I mean look at him, who could help but to love him. What I wasn't prepared for was the extent to which this love for him would grow inside of me. And, surprisingly, I find myself feeling more love and affection for him now than I do for most people.

There are moments when he looks up at me, his ears back, flat against his little apple head, and he is so cute that I want to take him in my hands and squeeze him and squeeze him until he is dead. No, I am not deranged. I just love him that much.

I talk to him. I sing to him. I clothe him. I sleep with him (or he with me). And, for the most part, I take him with me everywhere I go. I devote a considerable amount of time seriously contemplating his emotions when making my plans, and how said plans might make him feel. For the last year we have spent nearly every waking (and sleeping) hour together. He is like my child, or my parasitic twin. This is how seriously my love for him has become. Which is to say, borderline unhealthy.

Unfortunately, there are also moments where Bentley is not so altogether cute and charming.

For example, Bentley does not like men (a trait that we ironically share, which will no doubt be the topic of a future post) or people in hats. I, of course, use the word "hats" here loosely, as he really equally despises head coverings of all varieties. He also does not like drive through personnel, though this may be at the core also a hat issue. It's hard to say.

And when young Bentley is confronted with one such person he barks. Loudly. Constantly. Incessantly. And in these moments I also want to squeeze the life out of him, but for very different reasons. But I resist, chalking his barking up as part of his charm. (I mean, I did, after all, name him Bentley Barker Bates-Blankenship. What was I expecting? Another lesson to be filed away under the category heading "be careful what you wish for.")

Lately, on the one night or two a week that I leave him at home for a few hours to be lovingly puppy-sat by my sister, there has been a small shift in our routine.

Gone are the days when he would hear my key in the door and happily jump out of her bed to run at full speed to give me my 'oh thank god you're home, how dare you abandon me like that' kisses.

Now I must do everything short of tap dancing to lure him out of his cozy hideaway under my sisters down comforter. I squeak his toy, I call his name, I make kissing sounds to no avail. Nothing. Fifteen minutes later he will leisurely saunter down the hall, with a look as if to casually say "oh, you're home."

Et tu Judas?

This is not cool. I can't help but feel like a scorned lover hell bent on winning back the affections of a lost love. I should be happy. Knowing that he is content while I am away. But like a mother dropping her child off on the first day of school, there is a tiny little part of of me that is secretly thrilled when he throws a tantrum upon my leaving. That he might love me most.

But in the end, it does not matter, as long as he is happy here with me. After all, he is just a tiny little dog.

My child. My little boy. A little love bug. A bug of love.

5 comments:

Cheyenne said...

"squeeze him and squeeze him until he is dead."

delicious.

but i can't decide if that's more beautiful or more disaster...

Jacob Blankenship said...

Neither.
It is perfectly normal. Only natural really.
In fact, one of the first times I hung out with gab and clemmlet I turned to her and said "I have to tell you Gabrielle, your daughter is so cute I want to squeeze her until she is dead." I don't actually remember what her response was, but I am sure if she didn't say it she was thinking "awe, how sweet, thank you."

Pamela said...

i love him, too. though obviously not enough since i don't want to squeeze the stuffin' outta him.

B Kinch said...

I'm not a fan of chihuahuas, but your little Bentley has captured my fancy. He's a deer-fox and he's beautiful. Also, I love that you said he has an apple-head. Perfect.

Monica H said...

Your love for your little Bentley is apparent. I love reading about him, so thank you for linking to this post.

My mom just got a chihuahua (she found she him on the side of the road) a couple months ago. I used to not be a small dog person but he is so darn cute and tough for only being 4 pounds. And he farts on her so that makes me laugh :-)

It takes a special person to give love to an animal the way you have. He is more than just a furry friend, he's your pal.

I hope you have many, many more years of frienship with him.

~Monica