Herbietown - Little Dogs

Little Dogs


So I walk in the door last night, after being in Atlanta all week, and I discover my kids curled up on the couch watching Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2.

It’s a movie about a talking chihuahua.

I should have ripped the TV off the wall at that very moment.  I HATE little dogs.  I hate everything about them.  I hate the way people treat them as little pets, ferrying them around in little dog carriers, bringing them to the hair salon like they’re some kind of toy.

They are 1 step removed from rodents.  They are not real dogs.  And they should all be shot.

My father has a 1/2 chihuahua, 1/2 Jack Russell terrier.  He named it Ringo.  Everytime I see that dog I am overcome with an overwhelming desire to kick it.  My foot would fit perfectly under its little body, and I bet I could launch him across the room and against the wall.  It would feel so good.  He would yelp and slither away and I would be satiated, at least for a few moments.


Check out this pic of my old man at a baseball game with his little Paris Hilton dog in tow. It makes me want to puke.  He looks like a little rat.

And if you could hear him yelp, you would agree.

Sorry, Dad, but there is something wrong with you.  I question your status as a man.  I am calling you out.  That dog should be put out of its misery.

I don’t think very many people in the South have little vanity dogs like this. At least, I hope not.  I imagine in the South it’s all about dobermans and pitbulls and other, tougher, breeds.

It’s a good thing we’re moving, before it’s too late.