I just received some devastating news… my Chiweenie may not be what I thought she was. She might be, dare I say it… part Pug.

I don’t know why, but it’s kind of like going to ancestry.com and finding out great-grandpaw “owned people” in Alabama or Mississippi… it really shouldn’t impact your life, you had nothing to do with it, but it just feels wrong.

It took me a few months to get used to the idea of a Chiweenie. My idea of a dog was a shepherd or a retriever — you know something useful. Something big enough to put up some kind of defense if needed. Something that people didn’t point at and laugh when walking on the end of a leash.

The latest humiliation… walking Carol Baskins in downtown Gilbert. She’s refusing to move — her mama was going in the opposite direction. Leash pulls tight and I’m dragging her 10-pound ass down the concrete. I come around a corner of a building and two teenagers are sitting quietly looking at me and the taunt leash.

“Com’on Carol,” I say and give the leash a one-handed pull. Carol comes sliding into view. Butt down, head down, front legs stiff and pushing back against the direction of the leash.

“On my Gawd,” the kids say. “I thought you were going to be pulling a pit bull or some massive black dog. I didn’t expect that…”

It’s just Carol digging in her heels and crying her little Chihuahua cry.

The pointing and laughing continued until we were past the next building.

But it’s been two years of these laughs. I’m finally feeling laughed “with” and not “at”.

Weeks later… Carol and I are at agility class. Tunnels, jumps and teeter-totters for dogs. She’s the fucking star of the beginner class.

“Ohh she’s not a Chiweenie,” one of the other dog parents said. “I raised Chiweenies, she’s not long enough, and the tail is wrong.”

According to my anonymous expert, Chiweenies should have straight tails. Carol’s curves over her back. Unless she is wagging it, then it is long and flat and loud as a drum stick.

“I’d say she is part PUG.”

Pug hit my heart like a wet bag of shit. You know those useless flat faced dogs with obnoxious personalities and annoying breathing problems. Those spoiled little purse dogs that the rich assholes carry in Gucci bags. PUG! fuck.

Look at my Carol’s face… There’s no flat-faced pug in that.

“She has the Chihuahua face,” dog expert lady said.

“Siri, if a Chihuahua and a Dachshund make a Chiweenie, what does a Chihuahua and a Pug make?”

“A Chug.”

Nope. If people can pick any flavor of gender they want, dogs can pick what kind of breed they feel like they should be. Carol and I are going with Chiweenie. No fucking Pugs involved.

Chug that!