The Attack of the Chihweiler

This morning I was late to work. Why, you ask? Because my good ol' landlord decided to put up my apartment for sale a few months ago, and ever since, I've been barraged with visits from the realtor's office at random, usually inconvenient, times of the day. Today it was from 11:30 to 12:30.

So I'm at home, doors open, house cleaned, sitting on my bum waiting for people to drop by so I can finally leave for work. The DevilSpawn is running around outside in the patio, attacking the dragonflies buzzing around.

All is well.

Then the Pug starts screaming bloody murder. Usually, this happens when he sees a human walking by - he can't help himself. I believe his thinking pattern is: "Person! Person! Play! Play! Person! Play!" Being rather entranced playing Tetris, I ignored the bum.

Then I heard it. It was a weird barking sound, a combination between Rottweiler and Chihuahua. It started with a deep growl and progressed into a high pitched “rarrf!” I couldn’t think of any dogs that lived nearby, so I popped my head out the door to see what it was. There is my pug, staring at a little boy, maybe 4 or 5 years old, who’s on the stairs leading down to my apartment. And he’s nearly down on his hands and knees, doggy-style. And barking. At my pug. I swear upon coconut ice cream, DevilSpawn turns to look at me, cocks his head to the side, as if to say, “What in all the blazing eff is that?!”

I could have died laughing.

The little boy, not to be discouraged, ups the volume of his barking. Babar looks at him for a second silently, probably wondering whether he should stoop to that level – then barks back in reply. For the next 5 minutes while the kid’s parents toured my apartment, I could hear: Pug bark, pause for kid bark, kid barks, dog barks in response, kid barks again, dog barks. And repeat.

Just loverly.


P.S. On a side note, I want to live in Denmark. Desperately.