Chujo
Inside the rotted out remains of what once had been a serviceable shack a cold mist begins to creep slowly from between the floor-boards. Formless, it hovers less than a foot above rotted out planks of wood and then begins to creep slowly to – and then under the door. If someone were standing in the back-yard; they wouldn’t have seen the slithering fog through the tall, untrimmed grass and weeds. It glides along the ground until it is stopped by a large rock in its path. The mist doesn’t glide over or around the rock, but slowly squeezes under it. It’s found a new home, for now.
Within minutes, the back door to the house opens slightly and a small white and brown Chihuahua skips out onto the porch and begins to immediately sniff around for a good place to relieve itself.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Kelly Andrews says. “You go out on the grass like a good boy.” Her voice is soft and sweet. She knew better than to yell at Chujo. The small dog would only startle and let loose right where he was standing. Chujo stopped, looked back at his owner and then promptly lifted his leg. “No…” Kelly warned. “Bad boy… go on the grass.” Chujo dropped his leg quickly, made an excited lap around the porch and then stopped right next to Kelly’s potted plants. “Chujo…,” Kelly warned. “Don’t you dare!” It was no use. She was going to have to take him out to the yard. She slipped into her slippers and stepped out onto the porch. Chujo ran to meet her, yipping and trying to climb up her leg. Kelly reached down with one hand and curled her small dog under her arm like a football, ignoring the cool beads that she felt on her arm. She walked down the steps to the grassy back yard and gently put the dog down. Chujo ran off in search of a good place to do his business.
The Chihuahua sniffed along the perimeter of the grass, lifting his leg every few steps to mark his territory. Eventually, he came to his favorite place in the backyard – the large, white rock that he’d sometimes lay beside during hot summer days. He paused by the rock, lifted his leg and then cried out as if he’d been kicked. Kelly was playing Angry Birds on her phone when she heard the little dog’s yelp. She looked up, surprised and saw Chujo scooting his rear end with his hind legs spread out in front of him and issuing a high pitched cry. The scene would’ve been comical to normal people, but not to a dog’s owner. She ran to him and lifted him up into her arms. He struggled back and forth, trying to get away from her.
“Calm down,” Kelly soothed. She inspected his legs and torso, thinking that perhaps the little dog had been bitten by something. “I don’t see anything,” she said, rubbing her palm along Chujo’s soft belly. Her fingers rubbed along the inside of the dog’s back legs and came too close to his rear end. His head snapped downward and his small teeth sank into the soft flesh between Kelly’s thumb and index finger. “Ouch!” She cried and dropped him. The dog landed on his feet and spun to face her, growling. “You bit me, Chujo! Bad boy!” Chujo would normally cow away when Kelly scolded him. It surprised her that he didn’t even flinch. His growling stayed steady and low in his small doggie throat and thick ropes of greenish-brown phlegm began to descend from the sides of his little doggie mouth. His head was pointed toward the grass. “Chujo, are you okay? What’s wrong baby?” Chujo raised his eyes to meet Kelly’s and her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she saw the tiny, red, glowing orbs peering up at her. “Chujo?” Kelly said, barely above a whisper. Chujo took a step toward her, his growls becoming louder as his small mouth opened and displayed his teeth at her. As Chujo became more excited, he began to spritz the grass beneath him with urine. The grass withered, smoked and then caught aflame. “Screw this!” Kelly said and ran for the back door of the house.
When Kelly sprinted away, Chujo was right on her heels, yelping and nipping. She gained ground when she bounded up the back steps. Chujo jumped at the first step, missed, and slammed his forehead into the hard wood. He cried out and began to rub his face against the ground as Kelly burst into the house and slammed the screen door behind her. Chujo took the steps, one at a time until he reached the back porch. Then, he walked to the middle of the porch, sat down, and stared into the house, stared at Kelly as she fumbled with her phone and dialed 911. The operator came on the line and asked her what her emergency was. “It’s my dog,” Kelly said. “I think he has rabies or something. He attacked me.” The operator asked where the dog was and Kelly said that he was locked in the back-yard. “Don’t go back outside until Animal Control arrives, Ma’am,” the operator said. No shit, Kelly thought.
Kelly hung up the phone and stared at her small dog through the back screen door. Chujo just looked back at her. He’s just sitting there, she thought. Maybe he was just hurt and acting out. Maybe he’s better now. She walked to the screen door and looked down at him. Chujo looked up at her and cocked his head to the side, inquisitively. Then, he let out a whimper that made Kelly’s heart melt. “Are you okay, baby?” Kelly asked. Chujo cocked his head to the other side as if his master had just spoken to him in Martian. Slowly, Kelly creaked open the screen door. Chujo launched toward the opening so fast that Kelly barely had time to slam it shut again. Kelly backed away from the screen-door while the small dog slammed into it and jumped up against it. “Chujo!” She yelled at him, hoping that her voice was stern enough to get his attention. “You stop that right now!” Chujo stopped and peered at her through the screen. He cocked his head to the side again and gave another small whimper before lifting his leg and spraying the screen door. The screen began to smoke and melt before Kelly’s eyes.
Kelly ran to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and crawled on top of her bed. She fumbled around for her phone but couldn’t find it. I must’ve dropped it, she thought. Oh please hurry. Where the hell is Animal Control? Within a minute a small bump against the bedroom door made Kelly jump in surprise. She scooted herself to the wall and pulled a large pillow in front of her. Please, please hurry? She thought when she saw the first signs of smoke wafting in from under the door.
Chujo waited patiently for the door to burn away enough for him to fit his body through and then shot into the bedroom. Kelly’s scent invaded his senses. He knew that she was on the bed – smelled her there. He reared back and jumped, missed the edge of the bed and fell to the floor with a thud, and then everything went dark.
Kelly sat on top of the metal waste can and caught her breath. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before the little booger burned his way out. I need to make it to the back door, she thought. It’s wide open. The front door wouldn’t be any good. The dead bold was engaged and the little shit would be on her before she could get it open. If she made it to the back yard, she could jump the fence and get the hell out of there. She took a couple of deep breaths and then ran for her life.
The bin flipped when she pushed herself off of it and Chujo sank his small teeth into the back-side of her ankle before she could get the bedroom door open. She gave her foot a violent shake and the dog flew across the room, taking small bits of her flesh with him. Kelly flung open the door and bolted down the hallway, Chujo on her heels. When she reached the kitchen, she flung open the screen door and ran onto the back porch. Chujo ran back out through the hole in the screen and sank his teeth into the flesh behind Kelly’s other ankle. She screamed and fell forward, over the steps, onto the grass. Chujo was on her in an instant, tearing at her arm with his tiny teeth and claws. Kelly screamed and turned her body in circles. She tried shaking her arm, but she couldn’t get the small dog off of it. In the heat of the moment, she saw that the large, white rock was a few feet away from her. She scooted on her back until she got close and then slammed the dog against the side of the rock. Chujo yelped and let go. Kelly didn’t pause to think this time. She sprinted toward the gate, but Chujo blocked her path – snarling and growling at her.
“Okay, then,” Kelly said. “You wanna fight? Let’s do it.” She turned as if to run and Chujo sprinted after her. At the last moment before he reached her, she turned back around and kicked the small dog directly between his front legs. The dog issued ear-piercing yelps all the way over the neighbor’s fence. Sobbing, Kelly fell to her knees.
“What the hell’s going on here?” A man’s voice said from behind her. Kelly turned and saw a man in uniform. Animal Control stenciled neatly on the arm of his shirt. He looked Kelly up and down, pausing at her arm and legs. “You need an ambulance?” He asked. Kelly shook her head no.
“I’ll take myself to the hospital,” she said and got up and began limping toward the house.
“How big is your dog?” The Animal Control officer asked, looking around as if it may jump out at him at any moment. “Where is it?”
Just then, a blood-curdling scream rose from the neighbor’s yard followed by a billow of smoke floating gently above the fence.
