Descendants of Wolves

I impulsively brought Yoda home when I saw him getting bullied by his littermates at a Humane Society/Petco event. All I wanted was some cat food. Spike, soon to be Yoda, was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. He's 13 now with classic Chihuahua rot mouth; the essence of haunted aquarium, yesterday's fish, marinating in a barrel. When he was a puppy, he ate a stranger's used tampon out of a trash can at a job sight. Dutifully, I reached down his throat to pull it out as he was suffocating, warm strawberry soft serve. I had to take a scalding rape shower. He also ate 2, gigantic 80% cocao chocolate bars out of a friend's purse and lived to tell the story. I dress him up like John Waters sometimes because of the striking resemblance; especially with an ascot and pencil mustache, it really pops. He loves cheese, car rides and soft blankets. I want to get a Golden Retriever but Yoda has yet to fully forgive me for bringing Conan home. He's a good boy so I'll spare him the trauma of raising another puppy.

Conan tolerates car rides because he lives for adventure but is terrified of looking out the window when the car is moving so he keeps low. He's the spawn of my mother's bougie Coton De Tulear. I was there for the birth and was the first human to touch him. He looked like an itty bitty piglet. Ever since his eyes opened he's been obsessed with me. I had to take him home because I knew that, by the way he looked at me, nothing else would ever love me like that. Due to experiencing pup-hood in the woke wasteland of Washington State at the peak of Rona, where asshats were wearing 2 masks alone in their cars and crossing the street to avoid us, he's leary of strangers. We make a good team because humans make me uncomfortable too. It's why we moved to the country. But I digress. His favorite words are, "load up," "walk" and "cookie". On death row, his last meal would likely be a hash of cat litter, soiled paper towels and turkey.