Rosemary's Baby's Pet Dog

 

     So I stumble on this article about a woman putting up his dog, a Chihuahua named Prancer, for adoption. So why is she giving the dog away? Firstly, she describes the dog as demonic and neurotic who is hateful and violently aggressive towards people, including children, and other animals. Prancer’s positive side: he’s a bit nice to women so the owner wants only women to adopt the vicious dog. If you’re a married woman, you are advised to divorce first your husband before you take Prancer home. And once you get on Prancer’s good side, he’d be fiercely loyal to you, the owner said.

     Prancer the Chihuahua reminds me of Relic, an askal I used to own many years ago. A cousin found him abandoned inside a cemetery and took it home and later handed to me as he knew that I loved dogs.  I named the filthy and flea-ridden and with golden brown hair puppy Relic because, well, he was found inside a cemetery, beside an open, vacant tomb, and relic is defined as something that belongs to the dead, aside from it being the title of a Pink Floyd album (Relics).

     Relic, like Prancer, had been described as demonic and neurotic when he grew up. He was very hostile to people except to us who lived with him in the house. Whenever someone who didn’t live with us entered the house, he would attack that person and try to bite them. This person, in trying to avoid being slaughtered by a maniacal dog, would either end up on top of a table or the refrigerator.

     So we had no choice but to put him on a leash. He was a big dog so he really could be scary. And every time he got free, pandemonium would break out inside the house and in the streets that surrounded our house. Agonized screams from frightened scampering souls would fill every corner of our benighted neighborhood. Relic would chase everyone with the intention of ripping their flesh. I would grab him, catch him, but even me, he’d threaten to bite as he tried to break free from me.

     Everyone wanted to banish him—into hell, preferably. They said that the dog was possessed by an evil spirit who lived in the cemetery where he was found.

     But I just laughed and refused, and decided to be patient with him, hoping that he’d change as there were times that he could really be sweet and would play with me.  Until one fateful day, I was giving him lunch and I had the misfortune of moving his bowl (so he could eat better) and that pet of Rosemary's baby bit me on the hand. I lost my temper as I watched my hand bleed profusely and punched him hard in the head. I was about ready to brawl with him when some relatives arrived and stopped me.

     After that last-straw incident, I gave him to a relative and never heard of him again —and I was traumatized to own a dog again.

     But it’s about to change, as we’re expecting a Golden Retriever puppy to arrive in our home a few weeks from now—and I am hoping that he wouldn’t turn out to be a Charles Manson's spawn.