So this is Blas, looking particularly gordito.
In
his striped sweater.
You will note that I cannot seem to capture him in a
particularly adorable pose. This is not a coincidence. I’m not saying that Blas
is incapable of being adorable, but rather that he refuses to be with me.
Because Blas and I are not friends.
Sometimes, Blas will
pretend he likes me. This occurs we are having croquettes or cheese for dinner,
and Blas decides that he would like part of my portion, regardless of the fact
that he has already eaten and Imelda always ends up giving him some cheese. And
I’m like, Bro, back off the cheese. Mine.
And then he acts more
like himself and barks up a little storm. Much as he does whenever I am outside
the door, struggling with my keys. Thank goodness I’m getting better at that,
though, because the first few days were rough. Me, turning the key round and
round, Blas barking his obnoxious little Chihuahua head off, and Imelda calling
through the door “Tres vueltas, tres vueltas,” as if knowing that I should be
able to open it in three turns was actually helping the cause.
Another thing
standing in the way of our friendship is my categorical dislike of small dogs,
and especially Chihuahuas. There are only a handful of exceptions to this rule,
and I have had years to bond with these. Still, Imelda loves him, and he seems
to love Imelda, so I guess I can deal…
But that doesn’t mean
I can’t complain about him and his stupid bark.
Next time: Food and/or Orientation in Andalucía
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