Happy Tails Books

The Ferocious Flower

From "Lost Souls: FOUND! Inspiring Stories about Chihuahuas"


I was at the vet with one of our pets, when the tech mentioned two Chihuahuas at the pound. The pair’s family had packed up, moved, and left them wandering the streets to fend for themselves. The younger and more petite dog was immediately adopted, but Lilly, a larger, portlier dog was left behind in a cage she clearly disliked.

I had wanted another Chi, so we went to visit Lilly, who stood barking ferociously in her cage. I had called earlier to say we were coming, and the employee I spoke with had warned me about the barking. She said Lilly wasn’t vicious and advised me to tell the attendant on duty that Lilly would be fine outside of her cage. The shelter worker was right, and once she had been removed from her cage, Lilly relaxed. We felt sorry for Lilly, fearing no one else would take her, so we adopted her. It wasn’t love at first sight, but at least she would have a home.

I didn’t see Lilly again until I picked her up from her spay, and I had no idea what to expect. I’m a little afraid of dogs and was relieved when she let me carry her without snapping at me. She must have known she was my dog because when my husband arrived home that night, she barked at him and acted protective of me, even though we had both met her together the first time. While to me the barking was equally scary and endearing, my husband didn’t let it bother him, and they quickly became friends.

Lilly wasn’t really my idea of a Chi. I was used to a petite, gentle, five-pound Chihuahua and our cats. At 12 pounds Lilly was the miniature version of my husband’s childhood dog, Baby, a Dachshund/Welsh Corgi mix. Although according to our vet, Lilly was a purebred Chihuahua, the two looked very similar.

On her first day in our home, I put Lilly in the guest room when I went out. I thought that would keep her out of trouble, but she promptly dug through the rug and chewed through a corner of the door. Subsequent attempts to deter her from this behavior using baby gates failed because she chewed through them, too. After some research I learned that Lilly had severe separation anxiety. I hadn’t heard of it at the time, but it turned out that like many dogs who have come from a situation like Lilly’s, the stress of being left alone caused Lilly to behave badly. We combated her fears by occupying her while she was alone, giving her puzzle toys she could push around to release one dry food pellet at a time. We also plugged in an electric pheromone-releasing gadget (like a Glade plug-in), which is purported to have a calming effect on dogs. Lilly responded positively, and her undesirable behaviors subsided.

A week after we adopted Lilly, I took her with me to the transfer station to drop off some recyclables. When I wasn’t looking, she extricated herself from her car harness and ran between the large recycling receptacles. We both had bad knees, but hers appeared not to hinder her ability to remain out of my reach for quite some time before I finally caught her. The worker at the station must have thought I was loony as he watched me try to chase down my little dog.

Lilly was an alpha female, a junkyard-type dog. She was the enforcer, the sheriff who kept the peace. She didn’t like any kind of tomfoolery, and if the cats were playing or fighting, Lilly would bark at them and get into the middle of things. If our non-dominant Boston Terrier sisters were play-fighting, Lilly would carry on until they stopped, too.

Lilly became friends with Faith, the cat we had adopted a month before Lilly came to live with us. She would charge at Faith, but Faith had known a dog in her previous home and knew not to run. Lilly would be forced to stop in her tracks, and they would sometimes end the day by snuggling up together in Lilly’s bed.

Lilly may have been sweet to our cat, but with strangers she was ferocious. On one occasion I was sure she was going to bite the furnace serviceman and his assistant. Some trainers say that if you yell at a barking dog, the dog believes you are joining in, and this encourages him/her to continue threatening. The solution that worked for us was to instead give Lilly treats when she was barking, thus turning a negative experience into a positive one. With her love of food, it didn’t take Lilly long to catch on. She quickly began only barking at strangers to get treats, not because she was hostile.

I think the most memorable day with Lilly was when I took her out for a walk in her dog stroller (her knees were too bad to walk very far) along with our two timid Boston Terriers, and Jeff, a Collie-mix, had apparently decided not to let us pass. Cesar Millan, the television Dog Whisperer, advises, “No talk, no touch, no eye contact,” in these situations, so I kept my eyes down and just tried to walk past. He snarled and growled from the opposite side of the street, and my two Boston sisters immediately cowered. One slipped out of her harness, and as I fumbled nervously to put it back on, Lilly gave Jeff a piece of her mind. She faced him head on and snarled, making him back off and quiet down a bit. I got the Boston’s harness back on, and we victoriously continued on our way. I still laugh when looking back on that moment because my little Lilly was able to dominate the terrifying bigger dog.

Lilly was loyal and fearless. I have no doubt that she would’ve given her life to protect me, although fortunately no such circumstance emerged. It took me a while to warm up to her and get over my fears, but Lilly definitely worked her way into my heart over time.

By Raffaela Dwyer

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