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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Animal · #1586400
We inherited a very unusual little white chihuahua and he brought us a sick kind of joy.
Pee-Pee the Masochistic Chihuahua

Ever since I could remember,
my greatgrandmother had this little,old wiry chihuahua. On visits to
her little pink stucco house, he would be at the ready with his teeth as white as his coat.All the cousins would come to see him, encircling him like a freak show.In broken engish my greatgrandmother,we called her Babcha, would tell us, "No touch Pee-Pee!, He ez vahree baahd boy!" Upon hearing both his names he turned on her with propeller-like tailwagging contradicting the showing off teeth to her and rabid-esque barking.

I thought she was being mean but it turns out Pee-Pee was a bit of a masochist. The more you said he was a "Bad Boy", the happier he was, thereby making training him impossible. "Did you make Pee-Pee? Bad Boy!"  How he revelled in it.

At holidays we would use pieces of turkey or Russian delicacies to tempt him into submission.He would accept the edible bribes to let us gently pat his wiry coat. His thick tail wagging ever so slightly. Babcha would call to him from her seat in the kitchen,"Pee-Pee? You are sooooo bad,Bad Boy, Bad Boy!" You would think he hated her guts with all the howling and gnashing of teeth.
But they had something very special and we didn't know it.

When my grandmother died at the tender young age of over one hundred,She never did fess up to her exact age being the mysterious Russian she was,Pee-Pee was left in Babcha's home and would not let anyone take him out of it.He was waiting for Babcha to come home and torment him back to happiness.

"I don't know what we're gonna do.",said the uncles."Pee-Pee won't let us in there to even feed him""He'll take your hand off if you try. We're being patient and it's no use and he goes for our hands everytime we try to pick him up.The nicer we are, the nastier he gets." This fat little chihuahua had firmly stood his
ground and would not be deterred in keeping Babcha's house safe and he would not abandon his post.

Desperate times called for desperate measures and one brave uncle towel-wrapped his hands and dove in.He had Pee-Pee around the waist holding him up for us all to see. "Why this dog has only 2 teeth and they won't be in for long." The remaining teeth moved like piano keys. So the jig was up.

Pee-Pee came to live at our house. Depressed to the point of death, he gave up with his tail hanging at half-mast. A tribute to the love of his life and the beign of his existance, no longer there to torment and delight him. That's when it dawned on me, and from then on he was my bitch and he was happy for the brief time we had together. Food tasted better if it was peppered with insults, ear and belly rubs were so much more satisfying when I was his dominatrix telling him he was a worthless "Bad Boy" and a no good
"Dirty Dog". I found it had an even better effect if I spoke in a Russian accent.

The S&M tactics gave him an additional few months and he died with a clown-like grin on his face. We buried him under the little pine tree by our driveway since he loved to pee on it because he was told not to.I thought he would like that.


by: Kimarie Manhart-Freeman
© Copyright 2009 InkWellspring66 (songofsolomon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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