I’ve got a problem with you, Mexico. On the one hand, you are an excellent neighbor. A quick scan of Wikipedia shows me that we purchase over eighty percent of your exports, which include “manufactured goods, electronics, vehicles and auto parts, oil and oil products, silver, plastics, fruits, vegetables, coffee, cotton, and silver.”
That’s all good stuff! And I notice silver is listed twice on there. Thanks for that!
I’d also like to personally thank you for salsa, tortilla chips, burritos, enchiladas, quesadillas, some outstanding college spring break trips, tacos, chimichangas, carne asada, Cinco de Mayo, tostadas, tamales, Modelo beer, Carlos Santana, fajitas, guacamole, those little street tacos, and those masked luchadores wrestler guys that inspired the movie Nacho Libre. Oh, and also nachos!
There is one export that has me scratching my head, though. This leads us to my problem with you. I am, of course, talking about the Chihuahua.
This little dog is ridiculous, and it’s all your fault. You can’t deny it. Not only is the breed’s country of origin officially listed as Mexico, but you named it after one of your states!
Why?? Why would you want to take credit for this thing? What was the motivation behind breeding a bizarre little dog the size of a guinea pig with the personality of a weaponized pit bull?
It conveys nothing good about the state of Chihuahua, or the country of Mexico as a whole.
How did those initial conversations go, back in Old Mexico?
“Hey, Juan, check out these little perros we ended up with. Our smaller-than-average normal dog got out a few months ago and went looking for amor. She apparently hooked up with a large rodent of some kind?”
“Wow, those things are weird looking!”
“Yes, they are! Do you think we should try to make more of them?”
“Definitely! Only smaller and with bigger, weirder looking eyes.”
“Yes! Big bulgy eyes that are way too big for its cabeza. How about feet?”
“Tiny, with oversize, clicky toenails.”
“Bueno. Ears?”
“Also far too large for its cabeza, obviously. And pointy, of course.”
“Claro. Ooh, speaking of the head, do you think we should go for ever-so-slightly the wrong size for the body? I was thinking of having it random. You know, either too big or too small, but never the right size.”
“That is a great idea!”
“Gracias. How small should we try to make these perros?”
“I’m thinking we try to get them down to the size of a large rat.”
“Excellent idea. Should they have any redeeming features, dog-wise?”
“No nada! They definitely should NOT get along with other dogs. Or strangers. Or our friends. Or our neighbors. Really, I’m thinking they just shouldn’t get along with anyone or anything.”
“Bueno. Should they be useful at all?”
“Only as noise makers. And on that note, let’s make sure they are really loud. Like, louder than they should physically be able to be, size-wise. But, like, squeaky loud, you know? Not that good deep dog bark. That’s annoying.”
“So, essentially, we’re trying to breed the exact opposite of a Great Dane?”
“Perfecto! Our great state of Chihuahua, Mexico will be known for producing the loudest, meanest, weirdest-looking, most useless dog per pound de todos los perros del mundo!”
“Excelente!”
“Who do you think will want one?”
“Taco Bell, for sure. Probably a lot of other people, too, for some strange reason.”
Thanks for that, Mexico. What a treat. You’re still on the plus side of the equation, based on all the good stuff you offer, but those damn little dogs are really hurting your numbers. Those and the drug cartel guys.
But mostly the Chihuahuas.
See you soon,
-Smidge
Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen
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