They were so tiny when they first came to us. These four little black Chihuahua boys, just taken from their mother and whisked into a confusing world of strangers. When I opened their kennel, they were all huddled in the back. All I could see were eight little eyes staring out at me in fear. Not wanting to stress them, I left them there and placed some food inside. They were too scared to eat and, for a puppy, that is really scared.
Over the next couple of days, I pried them out of their kennel and gave them food. Hunger overcame fear but the poor little things fairly trembled when we came near them. They were so small, so alone, and so confused- it was heartrending.
Well, that’s all changed.
The little puddle of tiny helpless puppies has become a pack of predators that would make wolves flee for their lives. Appearing sad and plaintiff at the kennel door, they use their demonic psychic powers to persuade us to let them out to “play.” Then begins their reign of terror.
Nothing is safe. The cord to the blinds has been attacked so often that it just hangs there in mute surrender. Woe to the wayward sock that is stranded on the floor. The pack of little horrors attack and try to rend it pieces. Paper towels are torn to bits by the vicious, ripping teeth. The animals are a chaotic force of nature. They are predation at its worst.
The cats have again retreated to the bedroom. This time it is not out of protest but out of fear. They no longer look down their noses in derision. They keep to the high ground in an effort to avoid the pack’s wrath.
Sam, our Belgian Malinois, is not so lucky. He has no place of safety. He must stand and stolidly face these monsters as they attack him.
It is a horrible sight to see these bloodthirsty predators, some weighing upward of a pound, zoom in for the kill. They rear up almost halfway to Sam’s elbow and pounce on his foot with the skill of natural killers. Sam just takes it, hoping that the pack will eventually show him some mercy. Finally, survival instinct overcomes reason and he foolishly fights back, flipping them over with his nose. The miniature jackals become angered and renew the attack with increased vigor.
What are we to do? We are being held hostage in our own home. The best course of actions seems to be to placate the pack, and avoid its wrath. Thus, I give in to the incessant demands for food, toys and attention. I keep the kennel clean and the water bowl filled. I make myself their slave in an effort to protect my family.
Now all we can so is wait, endure and hope that, someday, these cute, cuddly demon spawn will dupe another unwitting family into taking them in. Until that wonderful day arrives, please pray for us as they prey on us.