getting laughed at

when i lived in america, i had a beefcake of a mutt. although generally harmless, our dog Sahera looked like she could kick the ass of anyone that crossed her path. she trained with me for my marathon and half-marathon, so her little poochie muscles rippled like A-Rod's-steroid-enhanced biceps.

when we went for our walks, people thought she looked pretty tough, but with her ridiculous ears, she still had a certain "Can i pet her?" appeal. she was totally cat-like in her indifference to being petted by strangers. she had a nonchalance about outings to the point that she would sprawl out in the middle of the sidewalk apparently dying of boredom. but with all the smiles and awe (see also: fear?) exuded from strangers at her physique, we never (ever) got laughed at.

this brings me to today as i am petsitting Maddie. i would say dogsitting, but this little polly-pocket-pooch is half dog, half hummingbird, and about the size of the latter.

she's quite pleasant as far as dogs go. she likes to cuddle, chew on rawhide, and go for walks. i am definitely appreciating her company and her cuddly-ness, but she's seriously hurting my street cred. everyone laughs at us as we walk around the streets of bury. people have asked me if she was a joke, a puppy, or a toy. i want to blurt out, "she's not mine!" at every smirk, giggle, and eye roll, but i can't hurt her feelings. she thinks she's a big dog as she lifts her leg around the 'hood.

i have never considered myself a vain person, but Maddie has made me realize that i'm probably more suited to a dog that could take on the mailman, not serve as his afternoon snack.