EL MITO DEL CHIHUAHUA (or in other words - the rat who became a dog)
Written by my sister Tanisha Jensen:
The chihuahua, though aggressive and small in stature, has somehow won the hearts of people everywhere. But why? Well, there’s a story behind that. It all began a long time ago in a small village in Mexico. Back then, but not unlike today, nobody liked rats… Because of this hatred, the rats took to hiding their whole community under the hut where the villagers kept the animals. There they hid, with only the oldest and wisest of their pack daring to emerge in “the hunt” once darkness fell to scavenge for a meager portion of scraps to sneak back to their cowering families. And thus they lived, in darkness and filth, loved by none but their own. And they were content with their existence. Well, all except for one rat named Chi.
Now, Chi was the oddball of the pack. While the other rats would eagerly feast on the rubbish brought in by the hunters, Chi instead crafted himself a dish out of a nutshell he found in the hut so as to not dirty his hands while he ate. While the pack seemed to thrive on the slime that made up their everyday lives, Chi spent hours preening and cleaning himself in a shard of glass, dreaming of a bigger, brighter, and cleaner existence. But above cleanliness or good etiquette, Chi yearned most of all to be loved. Needless to say, his odd, un-rat-like habits didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the community. And although he was allowed to live with his species, poor Chi was generally shunned by society and even by his family. He lived like this, cleaning and eating and yearning and waiting, until the day that his life changed. That was the day that Chi became old enough to join “the hunt.”
It was a dark night that Chi emerged for the very first time from the hut with a group of ten other rats, his whiskers bristling, his eyes soaking in the new world around him. The rats spanned out to cover more ground. Chi reluctantly focused on the task of gathering trash, when suddenly he saw a light. Intrigued, the young rat dropped the food and followed the source of the light up to a windowsill looking into a candlelit room. And there, a dream met his eyes. Light gleamed off of recently dusted chairs and crumb-free floors. The dogs he so often saw playing around the hut lay napping on beds or eating from dishes not so unlike the nutshell bowl Chi had crafted for himself. A tall creature entered the room, sat down by one dog’s bed, and gently began to caress the dog’s head in a manner that Chi could only define as being love. Chi watched, mesmerized, until the darkness began to fade and the pack call for them to return to the hut finally forced him to take his eyes from the scene and return home.
That day, while the other rats lay sleeping, Chi replayed the previous night’s events in his head. The cleanness, the light, the food, the love… “I feel,” thought Chi, “like I’ve finally found my people. After all these years, I’ve found where I belong.” Determined to not let such an opportunity pass him by, the little rat snuck quietly out of his bedroom and emerged once more from the hut into broad daylight. He searched until he found the dogs playing in the sunlight near the house. Taking a deep breath, Chi stepped forward and addressed the canines in the very politest of tones: “Excuse me, please, kind sirs. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m –”
“A rat!” barked a dog, fur bristling. All eyes were upon little Chi.
“No, wait! I’m just like you!” cried out the poor rat miserably.
“Alert the human!” yipped another mutt. A few moments later the same creature Chi had seen the night before emerged. Upon seeing Chi, instead of love shining in her eyes, a look of horror spread across her face and into her voice as she screamed,
“A RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!”
What was more, the human, as the dogs called it, then produced an enormous stick with a collection of sharp bristles on one end and began jabbing it frantically in Chi's direction. He leaped back, barely avoiding the blow, and scrambled away as the dogs chased him from the house. Now, this was a particularly normal experience for a rat out in the daytime, which is probably why they avoided it so much, but for Chi, it was beyond devastating. His family and the rest of the rat community didn't seem to understand it either because before he knew it he was banished from the pack and left completely alone. Stumbling away numbly, without caring where he went, he eventually collapsed into a puddle on the far side of the village. After an indeterminable time of pitiful moaning and snuffling, Chi finally got up. When he looked down at the puddle, a pair of bulgy eyes above a mess of whiskers stared back at him. “I am a rat,” Chi sighed. “How could any human love a face like this?” How indeed. But listen! This is not the end of Chi's story - no. For the very next day, something completely unexpected and highly illogical happened.
The exhausted, famished Chi was frantically searching for food. Since the night previous had been spent wallowing in a puddle, it was broad daylight by the time his hunger overcame his self pity. He darted between the shadows, keeping an eye out for danger, when he spotted a small human who was, incredibly, about as wide as he was tall. He was carrying several small bundles filled with - could it be? - FOOD! At that moment, another small, but significantly thinner human walked by with a ball. The first human stopped him, and in the effort to try to take the ball, dumped the food bundles on the ground. The scrawny boy fled, clutching his ball, with the other tromping behind him and bellowing. This strange human exchange mattered little to Chi; what mattered were the abandoned food bundles on the ground. Chi pounced, and although he was ravenous, he could not help but eat it primly. Suddenly, an enormous shadow fell on Chi and he slowly turned. The small round human was staring wide-mouthed at him, ball clenched in his grubby hands. Chi shivered uncontrollably in terror, but the human's face softened and his head fell to one side. “Aw!” he exclaimed, “Look at the cute little dog!” Without warning, Chi was snatched up and rushed to the biggest house in the village. The child roughly pushed his way past the other humans until stopping in front of the biggest human Chi had ever seen. The big human's stoic face curved into a nervous smile when he saw the boy, but quickly changed into an expression of shock when he saw Chi. “A rat!” he cried.
“No father,” insisted his plump captor. “It's my new dog.”
“No! It's a rat. We need to kill it!”
“But I want it!” the child whined.
“Give it to me!”
“No! It's mine!”
“As the leader of this village I command you to give it to me!”
The loud sounds emanating from the two humans frightened Chi, but what really rattled him was when, without warning, the smaller human fell backwards, taking both himself and Chi down to the ground. He then proceeded to flail in all directions. The thrashing seemed to distress the bigger human, who implored the little one with pleading motions. Finally, the gelatinous creature stopped his struggling and laid on his back, still holding the quivering Chi, who was wondering whether his heart might ever start again. When the big human gave an affirming grunt, the child leapt from the floor and started to run in place enthusiastically with small rapid steps, squealing, all the while squeezing Chi tightly. “Now,” he said suddenly, thrusting Chi out in front of him. “What should I name you?”
“Chi!” he squeaked nervously, then remembering himself, attempted a bark. “Hua, hua!”
“Chihuahua!” laughed the small human delightedly. “That is what I shall call you!” And so he did. The other villagers quickly learned from the withering looks and pointed threats of the spoiled child, to avoid pointing out that this particular rat was, indeed, a rat. So great was the boasting and praise of this “dog” that the villagers soon believed it themselves. And so did Chi.
Chi began to change. His need for cleanliness and yearning for affection evolved into obsessive vanity and aggressive jealousy. His daily preening soon included creating a dog-like appearance by pinning back his ears to make them pointed and holding his tail out straight behind him instead of dragging it loosely in the dirt. Since rats use their tails for balance, this conceited gesture forced Chi to take small mincing steps. After some time the under-used muscles eventually caused his tail to shrink. His ears also grew accustomed to their shape and no longer required pinning. Even though Chi had first shivered out of fear, the humans now cooed and swooned at this endearingly pitiful display, and showered him with more praise and adoration every time he trembled. Even his bulgy eyes and messy whiskers were celebrated and admired. It was all Chi had ever wanted.
But all that he had ever wanted was not enough. His once broken heart had become cold and distant. The dogs eventually tried to make peace, but he chased them away. If anyone, human or dog, tried to approach his human for even a moment, he would snarl at them savagely. He even became known for viciously charging any new human to pass through the village. All the praise from the villagers and his own inflated pride never quite seemed to soothe his troubled heart. This unsettled agitation was passed down through the generations, shaping the aggressive nature of chihuahuas today. Because, in spite of mass acceptance and blind devotion, deep down, they all know what Chi always knew: that he was a rat.
The chihuahua, though aggressive and small in stature, has somehow won the hearts of people everywhere. But why? Well, there’s a story behind that. It all began a long time ago in a small village in Mexico. Back then, but not unlike today, nobody liked rats… Because of this hatred, the rats took to hiding their whole community under the hut where the villagers kept the animals. There they hid, with only the oldest and wisest of their pack daring to emerge in “the hunt” once darkness fell to scavenge for a meager portion of scraps to sneak back to their cowering families. And thus they lived, in darkness and filth, loved by none but their own. And they were content with their existence. Well, all except for one rat named Chi.
Now, Chi was the oddball of the pack. While the other rats would eagerly feast on the rubbish brought in by the hunters, Chi instead crafted himself a dish out of a nutshell he found in the hut so as to not dirty his hands while he ate. While the pack seemed to thrive on the slime that made up their everyday lives, Chi spent hours preening and cleaning himself in a shard of glass, dreaming of a bigger, brighter, and cleaner existence. But above cleanliness or good etiquette, Chi yearned most of all to be loved. Needless to say, his odd, un-rat-like habits didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the community. And although he was allowed to live with his species, poor Chi was generally shunned by society and even by his family. He lived like this, cleaning and eating and yearning and waiting, until the day that his life changed. That was the day that Chi became old enough to join “the hunt.”
It was a dark night that Chi emerged for the very first time from the hut with a group of ten other rats, his whiskers bristling, his eyes soaking in the new world around him. The rats spanned out to cover more ground. Chi reluctantly focused on the task of gathering trash, when suddenly he saw a light. Intrigued, the young rat dropped the food and followed the source of the light up to a windowsill looking into a candlelit room. And there, a dream met his eyes. Light gleamed off of recently dusted chairs and crumb-free floors. The dogs he so often saw playing around the hut lay napping on beds or eating from dishes not so unlike the nutshell bowl Chi had crafted for himself. A tall creature entered the room, sat down by one dog’s bed, and gently began to caress the dog’s head in a manner that Chi could only define as being love. Chi watched, mesmerized, until the darkness began to fade and the pack call for them to return to the hut finally forced him to take his eyes from the scene and return home.
That day, while the other rats lay sleeping, Chi replayed the previous night’s events in his head. The cleanness, the light, the food, the love… “I feel,” thought Chi, “like I’ve finally found my people. After all these years, I’ve found where I belong.” Determined to not let such an opportunity pass him by, the little rat snuck quietly out of his bedroom and emerged once more from the hut into broad daylight. He searched until he found the dogs playing in the sunlight near the house. Taking a deep breath, Chi stepped forward and addressed the canines in the very politest of tones: “Excuse me, please, kind sirs. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m –”
“A rat!” barked a dog, fur bristling. All eyes were upon little Chi.
“No, wait! I’m just like you!” cried out the poor rat miserably.
“Alert the human!” yipped another mutt. A few moments later the same creature Chi had seen the night before emerged. Upon seeing Chi, instead of love shining in her eyes, a look of horror spread across her face and into her voice as she screamed,
“A RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!”
What was more, the human, as the dogs called it, then produced an enormous stick with a collection of sharp bristles on one end and began jabbing it frantically in Chi's direction. He leaped back, barely avoiding the blow, and scrambled away as the dogs chased him from the house. Now, this was a particularly normal experience for a rat out in the daytime, which is probably why they avoided it so much, but for Chi, it was beyond devastating. His family and the rest of the rat community didn't seem to understand it either because before he knew it he was banished from the pack and left completely alone. Stumbling away numbly, without caring where he went, he eventually collapsed into a puddle on the far side of the village. After an indeterminable time of pitiful moaning and snuffling, Chi finally got up. When he looked down at the puddle, a pair of bulgy eyes above a mess of whiskers stared back at him. “I am a rat,” Chi sighed. “How could any human love a face like this?” How indeed. But listen! This is not the end of Chi's story - no. For the very next day, something completely unexpected and highly illogical happened.
The exhausted, famished Chi was frantically searching for food. Since the night previous had been spent wallowing in a puddle, it was broad daylight by the time his hunger overcame his self pity. He darted between the shadows, keeping an eye out for danger, when he spotted a small human who was, incredibly, about as wide as he was tall. He was carrying several small bundles filled with - could it be? - FOOD! At that moment, another small, but significantly thinner human walked by with a ball. The first human stopped him, and in the effort to try to take the ball, dumped the food bundles on the ground. The scrawny boy fled, clutching his ball, with the other tromping behind him and bellowing. This strange human exchange mattered little to Chi; what mattered were the abandoned food bundles on the ground. Chi pounced, and although he was ravenous, he could not help but eat it primly. Suddenly, an enormous shadow fell on Chi and he slowly turned. The small round human was staring wide-mouthed at him, ball clenched in his grubby hands. Chi shivered uncontrollably in terror, but the human's face softened and his head fell to one side. “Aw!” he exclaimed, “Look at the cute little dog!” Without warning, Chi was snatched up and rushed to the biggest house in the village. The child roughly pushed his way past the other humans until stopping in front of the biggest human Chi had ever seen. The big human's stoic face curved into a nervous smile when he saw the boy, but quickly changed into an expression of shock when he saw Chi. “A rat!” he cried.
“No father,” insisted his plump captor. “It's my new dog.”
“No! It's a rat. We need to kill it!”
“But I want it!” the child whined.
“Give it to me!”
“No! It's mine!”
“As the leader of this village I command you to give it to me!”
The loud sounds emanating from the two humans frightened Chi, but what really rattled him was when, without warning, the smaller human fell backwards, taking both himself and Chi down to the ground. He then proceeded to flail in all directions. The thrashing seemed to distress the bigger human, who implored the little one with pleading motions. Finally, the gelatinous creature stopped his struggling and laid on his back, still holding the quivering Chi, who was wondering whether his heart might ever start again. When the big human gave an affirming grunt, the child leapt from the floor and started to run in place enthusiastically with small rapid steps, squealing, all the while squeezing Chi tightly. “Now,” he said suddenly, thrusting Chi out in front of him. “What should I name you?”
“Chi!” he squeaked nervously, then remembering himself, attempted a bark. “Hua, hua!”
“Chihuahua!” laughed the small human delightedly. “That is what I shall call you!” And so he did. The other villagers quickly learned from the withering looks and pointed threats of the spoiled child, to avoid pointing out that this particular rat was, indeed, a rat. So great was the boasting and praise of this “dog” that the villagers soon believed it themselves. And so did Chi.
Chi began to change. His need for cleanliness and yearning for affection evolved into obsessive vanity and aggressive jealousy. His daily preening soon included creating a dog-like appearance by pinning back his ears to make them pointed and holding his tail out straight behind him instead of dragging it loosely in the dirt. Since rats use their tails for balance, this conceited gesture forced Chi to take small mincing steps. After some time the under-used muscles eventually caused his tail to shrink. His ears also grew accustomed to their shape and no longer required pinning. Even though Chi had first shivered out of fear, the humans now cooed and swooned at this endearingly pitiful display, and showered him with more praise and adoration every time he trembled. Even his bulgy eyes and messy whiskers were celebrated and admired. It was all Chi had ever wanted.
But all that he had ever wanted was not enough. His once broken heart had become cold and distant. The dogs eventually tried to make peace, but he chased them away. If anyone, human or dog, tried to approach his human for even a moment, he would snarl at them savagely. He even became known for viciously charging any new human to pass through the village. All the praise from the villagers and his own inflated pride never quite seemed to soothe his troubled heart. This unsettled agitation was passed down through the generations, shaping the aggressive nature of chihuahuas today. Because, in spite of mass acceptance and blind devotion, deep down, they all know what Chi always knew: that he was a rat.
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