Yahoo Weather

You are here

Pit Bulls and Chihuahuas

staffordshire bull terriers and chihuahua
staffordshire bull terriers and chihuahua

Viva, my ass! Sometimes my relentless optimism gets tested, and this past holiday season was a prime example: a few days after Christmas, I had to put my poor dog down. BAH, HUMBUG!

Now, I’m not the type to carry a purebred pup around like a designer accessory – I got my little mutt at the pound, like the hardcore leftist commie bitch that I am. He was a humble stray of awkward pedigree – half Welsh Corgi, half German Shepherd; a goofy, funny-looking little feller that won hearts wherever he went.

Awww! You know how they say pet owners resemble their animals? Well, this was a match made in heaven!

Anyway, he turned out to be a great dog, and I had him for almost 6 years – that little fucker saw me through some very trying times. But just before Christmas, the poor guy swelled up like a zeppelin, from liver cancer…and just 11 days later, I had to take him into the vet and have him euthanized. I went in with him, and pet him while the doctor made the injection. It was horrible!

But like every miserable occasion in my life, I tried to make something fun and funny out of it. My intent in this instance had been to have the dog taxidermied – either stuffed whole, or just his head mounted on a plaque…or at the very least, have his hide tanned and made into a little rug (he had an exceptionally lovely coat of fur). A tribute to his memory…but also a funny conversation piece, ya know?

But that idea turned out to be prohibitively expensive – I called a taxidermy shop in old-town Hendertucky, and they quoted me something like $900 to stuff and mount him! Sorry, little feller… into the crematorium you go.

If you’ve ever had to put a beloved pet down, you understand what I mean when I say that I bawled my eyes out for two days straight. The sight of his leash, his toys, even the hairs he’d shed all over my black pants – it all made me weep. To make matters worse, my damn Aunt Flo chose RIGHT THEN to pay me a visit – more tears!!!

And then it was New Year’s Eve – woo-hoo! For someone like me, who is known as Good-Time Sally and the life of the party, it was a really trying time. I hate letting people down with a mopey face! But thanks to copious amounts of booze and drugs, I was able to get through the holiday with some semblance of fun. But I wasn’t really feeling it, and couldn’t wait for all the bullshit to be over so I could go home and cry some more.

This nonsense must end! I said to myself, looking at my blotchy, weepy reflection in the bathroom mirror. CES is around the corner, and no one wants to hire a crybaby to work their booth! Sack up!!! Life goes on, so get it together – NVEnergy don’t give a fuck if your dog just died!

In my experience, the best way to move on from tragedy is to preoccupy myself with a new project. In this case, I thought it would be therapeutic to channel my energy into adopting a new dog from the pound – if I could save another life, it would not only honor my dead dog’s memory, but would maybe also diminish my sadness.

So, I logged onto the Lied Animal Shelter’s website to check out the current roster of dogs available for adoption. But that was even more depressing: page after page of unwanted strays, runaways and rejects.

Worse, they say not to worry if you don’t see the dog of your dreams on the site – they get an average of 136 new pets every day, so try back tomorrow! There’s always a fresh crop!!!

Still, I am resolved to save a new life, so I made myself look through the photos…and was struck by the preponderance of two breeds: pit bulls and Chihuahuas. Literally, probably 80 percent of the dogs up for adoption at Lied are one breed or the other!

Now, I love all dogs, but it was downright disconcerting to see so many pit bulls and Chihuahuas…neither of which are breeds I am especially fond of. What gives?

Are all animal shelters in America the same way – or is this something particular to Vegas?? Is there something about our municipal character that lends itself to these two breeds?

Indeed, I found the situation weirdly symbolic.

Vegas itself has often been compared to the Island of Misfit Toys – broken souls come here because they can’t fit in/make it anywhere else. We’re a city of strays, runaways and rejects…just like the pound.

And just like the city, the pound is dominated by fierce, muscular bad-asses and girly, yappy little lapdogs. Heavyweight boxers and bikini models…frat mooks and sorority bimbos…mobsters and strippers…moguls and trophy wives.


I guess if I really want to do a good deed, I should adopt one of each… and name them Mayweather and Arianny. Or Bugsy and Holly. Or Steve and Andrea.

Bah, humbug!

SARAH JANE WOODALL is a one-woman culture festival. Read more at her blog,