My mom’s little Chihuahua, Rocky.


Someday, I’m gonna steal this little guy!

About three years ago, not even a year after my mom gave us her Queensland Heeler, my mom acquired Rocky. He was a tiny puppy, sold at a yard sale in the Vons supermarket parking lot, benefitting the funeral of one of their checkers who had been killed by a drunk driver while he was on his way home from work.

Before this, my mom was not a Chihuahua person, not even a little-dog person. She had just gone through a bout of chemotherapy and radiation, and during that time she had given us her bouncy Queensland who was an escape artist.

Her idea was that if Rocky was a problem, she could just pick him up! She did not count on having to catch him first. Luckily, he is not an escape artist and will come when he hears kibble rattling around in a coffee can.

Don’t you wish people were like that?


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