Four and a Half Pounds of Fury

Meet Maximus Minimus

This is Max, our Apple Head Chihuahua. 

He's small, but don't tell him that. We don't.

In fact, we call him and the other two of our vertically-challenged dogs, "Short Dogs" - as opposed to Belle, who dwarfs them all. 

I've seen Max take down a big pit bull and an even bigger German Shepherd (that one's tall enough to rest his head on our kitchen counters). Next thing we knew, these big boys were crying for mercy.

Once, it didn't go so well. Belle was on steroids for a while for some skin issues. One day, she had what we can only figure was a bout of 'roid rage, picked him up, and shook the living daylights out of him. In the process, he lost some teeth and broke 4-5 ribs! We weren't sure he was going to make it.

The vet wrapped him up, mummy-style and we brought him home to watch overnight, hoping for the best. The next day, stoned out of his mind on pain meds, he managed to UNWRAP himself and zombie-walk to find me on the other side of the house from where we'd tucked him in. Scared the crap out of me!

When we take the pack on a walk, Max walks like a boss, bringing up the tail. "I've got your six," is what we think he's saying.

He's a ferocious guard dog, and is typically within about four feet of my workspace. He'd screen my calls if he could speak. 

He's getting old - about nine now - and grumpy. When he's especially barkative, I wrap him up in a Mexican blanket and threaten him with Time Out if he doesn't pipe down. He likes the blanket, but gives me the evil eye when I start giggling and calling him Abuela.  

Reminds me of when I decided to buy him a sweatshirt to wear on walks. OK, it had rhinestones on the back, but they were in the pattern of a skull! That's badass, right? Well, he decided to stand under the kitchen stool, scraping his back on its rungs to peel the hoodie right off his back.

We love this big dog. Figured you might like him, too.