Beware of the Wuss

I own Texas’ most vicious species of dog. It’s true, according to four out of the last five apartment complexes we interviewed with. Each of them had a nice young lady who smiled and gave us a glossy pamphlet showing luxurious amenity after amenity including glistening pools and over-the-range microwave ovens. My husband and I “oooohed” and “ahhhed” while exchanging eager glances. But then we would get to the part where we’d ask about having pets, “…particularly large dogs,” we’d say with a phoney nervous smile that covered a “No need to ask what kind of dog she is.” kind of look.
“Why yes! We do allow pets, even large dogs are just fine” each Barbie-faced receptionist cooed, giving us hope that we had finally found just the right place to live. My husband and I would let out a sigh of relief and smile back at her. However, the scene quickly went dark when we’d casually reveal that the, um, large dog… was a *GASP* Rottweiler, heh heh. At that point we were either chastised or lectured making us feel like the most irresponsible pet owners on the face of the planet. I think one place even asked us to spit out our complimentary snacks and leave immediately. It varied somewhat from place to place, but generally it went something like this,
“We at the Happy View Vista Apartment Home Complex Center (The HVVAHC for short) cannot and will not condone living space for YOUR breed of dog!” The now reformed sweet secretary turned Nazi-Dog Protester stands up and points vehemently at the door while spittle sprays from her lips and fire begins to rise up from behind her devilish eyes. “Furthermore, it has been scientifically proven that Rottweilers, especially YOUR Rottweiler, can and will attack the elderly, the disabled and the generally-slow young children of this world far more often than would a Cocker Spaniel, a ‘Pick-a-Poo’, or any other type of Yip-Yappy type of dog.”
I may have embellished a little here, spittle didn’t REALLY fly from her lips. The other details are crystal clear…in my mind. Also, for information purposes to my readers- I happen to know that, spaniels are far snippier and bite much more frequently than Rotties do. Although, they do have a smaller mouth-span, which I’m guessing here, is the bigger reason why our beloved family pet has been blackballed from so many fine establishments such as the HVVAHC.
I understand that when most people think of Rottweilers, all they can imagine is some huge snarling, slobbering dog breaking away from his owner, who then runs up to the nearest playground and eats the first “slow swimmer” that comes by. No? Okay, maybe instead they think of a dog you see with those over-exaggerated rap stars. You know, the ones who wear baggy pants clinging helplessly around their boxer-clad buns, while sporting 2 tons of gold chains and a matching gold tooth. In his hand he’s clutching a huge mammoth size chain attached to a silver studded dog collar being worn by “Diamond Dust” the drug-snorting dog. “Word up to your mamma” (I think.)
Neither of those is OUR Rottweiler. We love Disco (yes, her name is Disco, which is a nod to the way she wiggled around as a pup.) Disco is fat, obesely fat, and she is what we lovingly refer to as- the family doorbell. Oh yes, she barks up a good display of viciousness at even the slightest possibility that someone MIGHT be visiting, whether they are or not. Watch out you pizza delivery guy, or you boy-scout selling popcorn, or even you random jogger running 50 feet out in front of our yard… Disco-Dog is ON patrol. Every guest to our house, pales at her vicious growling heard behind the 3 inch think wooden door. Yet, if only they knew.
If only they knew that Disco’s worst nemesis is (cue evil music) the vacuum cleaner! That wiley evil appliance. Fire up that evil death machine and watch as 200 pounds of wuss slinks around the coffee-table, tail between her legs with a nervousness that could only be matched by small children who are forced to ride the roller coaster with dad. Yes, Disco the Wonder-Reiller is petrified of the Vile Vacuum.
It starts when I lug the half-a-ton beast out of the closet. Her little doggie ears perk up and something inside her says “Oh no, it’s back! After I so successfully avoided you the last time, you’re back for more un-daunting mockery! Please, please have mercy on me!”
She then sits up. Then she stands up. Then she sits back down, and stands up again over and over while displaying obvious signs of submission towards the looming monster. She loudly licks her chops and begins to whine a little, you can tell she’s making mental notes of which way to run first. And then… I LET IT LOOSE! With a flick of the switch the mad thing ROARS to life, scraping, beating, and brushing away at the carpet. At this point all the baskets of laundry, large potted plants, or inconveniently placed children cannot keep Disco Dog from clamoring up and over to safety. The charade is so funny that I find myself doing it on days where there is nothing else to do, just for the laugh. I have the cleanest carpets ever.
I don’t know why a dog that large could be so afraid of something so trivial. Is it because the vacuum-beast is so loud? No, because I’m quite certain that my children are at least a few-hundred decibels above the relatively low hum of a vacuum. Maybe it’s the menacing light up eyes or snake-like tail. It could also be the smell of the putrid container, gross! I have my own theory though. I believe that Disco is afraid of the vacuum because in it’s belly, there is roughly half my dog’s weight in hair. I swear there is enough hair sucked-up by that cleaner to create a small Franken-weiller! So, I theorize, that she probably feels this abominable beast is slowly digesting her! Personally, I too would find that rather scary.
I only wish, though, that I could show the HVVAHC footage of my meatloaf-of-a dog scurrying ‘round the table to escape the villainous clutches of the Hoover monster. Maybe they would reconsider our application. I hope too, that no one ever tries to break into our house at night with a Shop-Vac.