Do you know Micki like I know Micki?

It all started four years ago. Micki (name changed to protect the guilty) is the pet of one of my clients. He is a Chiquaqua. He thinks he is human. The first time I met Micki and his master it was to look at houses. I picked up my client at the hotel and much to my chagrin she had her tiny Chiquaua under her arm. "I couldn't possibly leave him alone in the hotel," she said. I was speechless. When we arrived at the first home we got out, Micki included. "Ah, I don't think that it a good idea. He'll have to stay in the car", I said. Micki was not pleased. I was not pleased either. What would I find when I came out? "Lord, please protect my car from dog doodoo," I prayed. I spent many evenings looking at homes with a possessed dog glaring at me and bearing his teeth from under the arm of my client. Thankfully he never left me a present.

On the day of her house closing my husband and I dropped by with pizza and pop for her family. Garry met Micki for the first time. Micki promptly attached himself to Garry's pant leg with his teeth when Garry reached out to shake my client's hand. You see Micki is in love with my client and will attempt to kill you if you even acknowledged her presence. I will never forget the look on Garry's face. I seriously feared that Micki might have to die.

Several years passed and my client called me and asked me to list her house. I arrived at her home dressed to the nines in suit and pumps. I was sitting at the kitchen table while my client was signing the paperwork when I began to feel pain in my foot. The pain-o-meter went from 0 to 1000 in about 2 seconds. I glanced under the table to find Micki attached to my foot. As our eyes met he clamped down and I screamed. Much to my terror he bit down harder in response to my fear. By this time my client is beginning to clue in to the situation and starts screaming at Micki. At last the stupid dog let go and ran off. I gathered my paperwork saying, "oh, don't worry I'm fine". She apologized profusely and assured me that he had his shots (nice). As I put on my shoes at the front door I saw blood running down my foot and into my shoe. GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!

Last Sunday I went to do an open house at Micki's place. I was standing in the entry way waiting for the family to leave when I had a strange sense that I was being watched. At the top of the stairs was my nemesis Micki. Our eyes met. He showed me his teeth. I showed him mine. He ran down the steps and latched onto my shoe. It was a leather boot (thank you Jesus for your protection). It became apparent that he had no intention of releasing and no one was around so.............I sent him flying across the entry way. The dog was actually airborne. It was a sight of absolute beauty. He landed with a thud and slid across the ceramic tile. When he recovered he came at me with intent to kill. Thankfully my client came around the corner and chased the dog into the laundry room. With heart pounding I said goodbye to the family as they left for the two hour open house.

I went into the kitchen to put out my cards and other marketing materials when I heard some distant barking and looked up. I was instantly filled with complete joy as I saw Micki on the deck outside looking at me through the glass door. There was no way I was letting him in. He was so mad. He was charging the door and giving me the what for. I just smiled at him. No that's not true.................................I mocked him. For two hours he stalked me through the door with murder in his eyes.

How can a tiny little dog be so evil? Why does he like my feet? How bad is the next confrontation going to be? Maybe I'll just grab the little stink and bite his foot right off.

That reminds me of a joke.

Did you here about the three legged dog who walked into the bar to find out who shot his pa (paw)? Hey, maybe the dogs name was Micki.

I don't know how this story with Micki will end but thankfully it will. And I will be left with a teeny tiny scar to remember him by.

So Why am I writing this you may ask? Well confession is good for the soul. (Just so you know I have two dogs of my own who I love very much. I am not a dog hater at heart.) Sometimes you just have to get things off your chest.