Whenever I ask Izzy whether he wants to visit Ellie (his Maltese friend who lives around the corner), his head cocks, his eyes brighten, and his tail wags furiously. He pulls me excitedly as we walk down the street, often turning to wait for me as we round the corner, as if to say, “Come on, come on! She won’t wait for us!” Obviously, he loves his little girlfriend.
In order to get to Ellie’s house, we need to pass by the big yellow Victorian house (that’s always decorated for holidays) and the Chihauha that lives in a fenced-in area on the front lawn. That’s the dog that chased us down last year, knocking me on my butt and freaking out Izzy. The dog is nasty. Plain and simple. He barks (translation: yaps) constantly, running back and forth along the fenceline, growling at anyone who passes by. You know that if he gets out, he’ll rip into your leg.
Usually, Izzy will ignore the dog, happily bouncing past because he knows he’s excited about going to Ellie’s, but the other day, I think he just had had it with the yappy Chihauha.
We made it to Ellie’s house, the two dogs played, and Izzy wore himself out. On the way home, we passed the yellow Victorian again, and the Chihauha went ballistic. Casually, Izzy walked the fenceline, looking the little yapper right in the face.
You’re behind the fence, acting the fool, Izzy seemed to say. Is that really necessary?
The Chihauha charged the fence, in a barking frenzy now. Izzy was way too close for the other dog’s comfort. Izzy stared him down, unmoving, then when the dog came close, Izzy lifted his leg. Perfect score. Right in the Chihauha’s face. The other dog shut up immediately.
As Izzy bounced happily down the street in front of me, I couldn’t stop laughing. Boy, how I wish I was a boy dog sometimes and could have the last laugh the way Izzy had. Bravo, little boy. Bravo.