Fight

           I'm a chigi: part chihuahua, part corgi, but I'm a good dog, I'm good at my job, and I'm good at being a bad dog. See, my job is beating up big dogs. They put me and a big dog in a rink and we growl at each other and we work at biting each other and trying to cut into each other's skin with our teeth. We want to hear the other dog whine in pain and fear until they stop whining, which means they've died and I then get to gnaw on their liver and I get a treat and cheers from my side of the stage. There's also a lot of side betting in dog fighting and my master is one of the few who puts money on me. Everybody assumes I'm dead meat, because of my size. I'm small, but I understand the anatomy of other dogs. Think about jui jitsu with humans. Joints on humans only move in a certain direction and the same thing is true with dogs. There are also weaker spots. Like, if I get until the belly of a big dog and start biting there, the fight is essentially over.

           There's also the usual stare down. When dogs fight each other, we look into each other's eyes to see if there's fear in the other dog and if there is, the dog without the fear has won the fight. I'm small, but I'm smart. It's also to my advantage if the big dog starts shivering, because that means they know they've lost. I ain't afraid of big dogs. And on the off chance they put me against a small dog, it's even easier. Flip the dog over and the fight is done.

           There have been a few close calls though. Once, I was fighting a wolf. Wolf's get their food from the wild and have training. It's hard if the wolf/dog I'm fighting is an alpha dog also, because theat also means they've fought other dogs and may know some of the tricks I've learned and this motherfucker had all of those. He showed no fear in his eyes when we started staring each other down and he knew (from experience) how to protect his weak spots so I had to use more strategy than usual. I smelled his urine and blood on him and looked around his body to see where it was coming from. I saw a small scar on his hind left leg, which looked like a chicken bone. Mmmm. So, we started staring and I make a leap for his hind leg, but this this wolf was able to get his teeth around my ribcage. I remember not to show him outer signs of fear. This could be the end, but so could any day. Then, in panic, I had a flashback of a TV show my master watched on The Discovery Channel, called, “The Gator Boys,” where looneys caught allegators who were bothering people (things like swimming in people's pools, attacking local pets, etc.) and put on a show with them. One of the things these people did with these allegators was put their head inside the alligator and the way the people got the alligator to open its mouth was by putting their fingers over the alligators nose. See, animals need oxygen to breathe and if we're eating, we breathe through our nose, so if the nose is covered, they have to open their mouths to breathe. So, although I could feel the wolf's jaws getting tighter and could sense he was about to shake me like a dog toy, I got my paws and covered his nose. I looked the wolf straight in the eyes and he showed a sign of confusion. Then, he had S.O.B. (shortness of breath) and opened his mouth. I fell on the dirt, regained my bearings, went for his hind claw, and bit hard. Then, I heard the sound he wanted to hear from me: whining. Dogs don't cry unless we have something caught in our eyes, but we do whimper and whine. Then, since I had the advantage and could access his stomach, I was able to manipulate the angles and get the wolf the roll on his back. I bit hard into his stomach and dug. More whimpering. Then, I dug through and heard the normal sounds a dog makes when it knows it's about to die. Loud, whining, scared, desperate sounds. Then, the up and down motion of the dog's rib cage stopped. I had won. I chomped on the huge liver of this Golliath's liver and felt proud of myself. I'd taken told Golden Retrievers, but never a wild wolf. The trick was to never show fear and AJD's Magic Staff. 

           Next, came my next favorite part (besides the liver), the crowd stood up, cheered, hooted, and some booed me (the people who lost their bets), but my master brought out a surprise I'll remember. He got me a T-Bone steak (with the bone out) and I wagged my tail and I allowed my eyes to fill with joy (something I'd never do during a fight) and I went to my master. Begged, and he dropped it to the floor. I chewed, gnawed, and enjoyed it, before any of the other dogs in the arena could. This was the best fight of my life. The MC said, “The Underdog, Chico, takes the grand championship again. Go to the booth to collect your winnings”. The man who lost his wolf shook my master's hand and said, “Wow. Good fight.” I looked at my opponent's master eyes the same way I looked at the wolf's eyes and even though the wolf master tried to cover it with poker face, I could see there was loss in his eyes like when a parent loses their child. He must've loved the wolf who he just lost the way my master loves me. But, I can't allow myself to become weak or care about feelings, because if I had died and the wolf had won, the wolf master would not have cared about my master's tears. What a strange world.   I go home that night and feel good. I'm not hungry for more food, but lap some water and am walked by my master. I wonder what it would be like if I'd been a seeing eye dog, hearing ear dog, a bomb sniffing dog, or some other dog who helps people, but, as Popeye said, “I am what I am”. I'm allowed to sleep with my master and his wife, my other master, and I hear them thank God for me. I wonder what they'd say to God if I lost. I wonder what'll happen to me when I get too old to fight. I wonder if I'll get to be a normal dog who waits for their master while they're at work and shows my affection when he comes home. I wonder what it would be like to not be in the spotlight, but I love fighting and I love steaks, so it's all good, right? It's all good?