Chihuahua Conversion Therapy — Fourth Quarter Begins pg276

Colorful companion to my memoir The Incompetent Psychic

It started with tomatoes: ‘Too Many Tomatoes’ 1995

2013 — Benicia, California

One Friday afternoon in September I was in the back garden — maybe watering the tomatoes, maybe picking some, or perhaps just staring at them while calculating freezer space when there was a loud chorus of high-pitched yipping. It came from the end of the alley at the pet shop on First Street. The new owner mentioned he was starting small dog adoptions, but I had discarded the idea of a tiny yapper. Then came a cosmic kick in the pants.

I wandered down the lane zombie-like to go look at the cages of mutts scattered along the sidewalk. One scrawny little thing sat alone, quietly quivering. I asked to see it. The woman bent down, unlatched the carrier and handed me a six pound skeleton with blond fur stretched over it, and bite marks on its little face. I looked into this sad little mite’s buggy frog eyes with dark circles under them. A jolt of recognition hit like when angels laugh. “Here you are. But… you’re a chihuahua.” The feeling of connection was so powerful it didn’t matter. “Who are you?” I thought/asked. I heard the word ‘Faun’. Or maybe it was Fawn, but I went with the mythical beast spelling. — From Chapter 15