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Chihuahuas, they’re fierce.

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My driver’s license is so old and stale that it doesn’t count as legal ID when I’m going to go renew it. This meant a trip out to my parents’ house to get my birth certificate and gorge myself on cheese yesterday.

The cats are pissed off at me for leaving but took interest in me for a brief period because I am a conduit through which sausage reaches the floor from the fridge. Once sated, they went back to sleep.

On my way home, I stopped at the neighbourhood Salvation Army where I always seem to have incredibly good luck. It’s as if there is a legion of short women with reasonably good taste that donates to that specific Sally Ann so that I will magically find decent clothes that fit there. I picked up a wool winter coat for $25, as well as a couple other things that filled a garbage bag.

Out on the street waiting for the bus I heard someone calling my name. It was my aunt who had snuck up on me from behind with her super stealth SUV driving skills. She offered me a ride most of the way home.

The cousins were happy to see me, but the counterflow lane was on on the bridge and traffic slowed to a crawl. The kids started fighting in the backseat. A couple confiscated toys later we turned to a safe topic: their new dogs.

“Did you hear about how Chihuahuas are more dangerous than dinosaurs?” my aunt asked.

“Their teeth are sharp! One nip and you go right down!” someone shouted from the backseat.

“That’s why they’re macho status symbol dogs.”

“Can we get another one?”

“We have two. There’s a limit.”

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2 Responses to “Chihuahuas, they’re fierce.”

  1. Gage Says:

    is it sad that I actually like those fake owls?

  2. erin Says:

    Not at all. I like the idea of a basket full of them.

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