Bay to Ocean Journal: The Chihuahuas by Elisabeth Lang

Author’s note: The first chance meeting between a future couple is magical, full of possibilities. A happenstance meeting at the dog park, local restaurant, or on the hiking trail becomes the unrecognized turning point from where a new cascade of interactions occurs. As background for this story, I wanted to feature a few favorite places in Silver Spring, where people and their furry friends can linger and where the bold, barky Hank and the outgoing princess Ella personalities would shine, just like the two Chihuahuas who share our home and delight the neighborhood.

I always wanted a dog named Sugar. A big dog like a Labrador, able to run alongside me down Sligo Creek Parkway. After putting a down payment on my condo three years ago, I bored the real estate agent with my detailed plans to find my furry friend. Unfortunately, I kept postponing the big day, which made me an easy dog-sitting target for my older sister.

When I watched eight-pound Hank, I made sure he had food and water; and in return, he didn’t pee on my furniture. Although Ashley got mad when I referred to Hank as a large rat or not a real dog, she kept bringing him over. We got used to each other.

So when her newest boyfriend proved to be allergic to dogs, I felt sorry for my forever love-stricken sister. I took in the standoffish Hank. On a temporary basis. 

Because I was absolutely sure in a few days, a week at most, Ashley would come running back to claim her little man, as she nauseatingly calls Hank. Missing your dog is the perfect excuse to boot an allergic guy out of your life. 

Totally wrong. Two months later, allergic Mike has moved into Ashley’s tiny apartment, making it a dog free zone. Now I hurry home from work to take the little rat dog out for a walk. Not a run where I could take my time and test my limits, but instead a slow meandering march with Hank prancing a million steps to my one. 

Dragging my butt home after another lovely day of haranguing staff to complete their performance reviews, I strip off my work shoes and enjoy watching Hank nearly turn himself inside out with joy at seeing me. I gently rub behind his velvet ears. He stretches in satisfaction as I scratch along his back, striking a perfect downward dog pose.

Take that, Ashley! He likes me better, I think. 

Grabbing the orange harness and leash off the kitchen hook is the signal for Hank to dance on his back legs, nails clicking on the floor, seemingly praying with his front paws. I gulp down some water and change into my running shoes. 

Outside, the air is crisp and cool, and I take a deep breath. Hank leads the way down the bike path next to Sligo Creek Parkway. The path winds between stands of tall trees with houses barely visible in the distance. The creek is a ribbon of slow-moving water in a deep ravine crossed with brown wooden bridges every mile or so. Silver Spring is packed with so many people, its green-space islands are precious. 

Hank greets each passing dog as if he weighs 100 pounds. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s a delicate, tan Chihuahua with an adorable doggy grin. I have nightmares of returning him to my sister in bandages after a proper-size dog sits on him.

Joggers and bike riders whip by me and Hank. A cute, nerdy-looking man jogs by in blue shorts and a neon yellow top, just my type. Quickly averting my eyes to stare at the shallow creek, I silently repeat my new mantra: ‘No men for a year.’ 

After breaking up with flaky Dave three months ago, I’d sworn a solemn oath. I needed a rest from all the boyfriend crap.

Breaking up. Could you even call it that when you thought you were dating a good guy with keeper possibilities, but instead he turned out to be a total, two-timing flake? He always seemed thrilled to see me, but would forget about our date at the Baby Cat Brewery after work or going to the movies. I thought he was forgetful, but turns out he was a juggler. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I went by his place and stood staring at a topless woman from Sweden making toast in his kitchen. And worse, he was so calm about it. “She’s like that. Doesn’t like shirts.” 

After slamming his front door when I stalked out, I waited for the tears. Nothing. Not even alligator tears. I guess, in my heart of hearts, I knew who Dave was before I started dating him. 

So, I’d given myself a dating a time out until I can figure out how to date responsibly. Not just go out with the guy because he lives on a boat. Or date a cheater because he’s better looking than me with excellent hair. Hank is the only male allowed in my bedroom. 

When another jogger goes by, I avert my gaze. Hank sniffs and snuffles his way to our normal turnaround place at the bridge. Stopping to tie my shoelace, I crouch and tuck Hank’s leash securely behind my knee. 

A sudden high-pitched bark sounds in the distance and Hank takes off like a rocket. Sprinting towards another Chihuahua, leash trailing behind, Hank is intent on showing this foolish dog what’s what. 

My voice catches in the back of my throat and I leap to my feet. Worry that the little rat dog will be broken by another dog, or worse, flattened by one of the cars zipping by on the Parkway, overwhelms me. 

Yelling stop, I race down the path after the rat fink. Reaching Hank, I am both thankful, and embarrassed, that the two dogs’ leashes are hopelessly entangled. 

Forced to kneel to free Hank, I say to the human end of the dog leash, “I’m so sorry, he’s a terror around other dogs.” 

I glance down, but the little traitor is determined to make me a liar and is now snuggling with the other dog. Both shiver with delight and appear ready to play.

“No problem. Looks like he must lick them to death,” the cute, sandy-blond haired man said with one side of his mouth quirking up.

Laughing, I get a full look at the other person in this furry/human grouping. I can’t help noticing his eyes crinkle at the corners, complimented by a good smile. And shocker, about my age. 

Nope, not today. I think. He can be adorable and kind to animals, but I’m keeping to my pledge. My therapist is almost happy with me. I’m exercising and eating healthily, kale and everything. I don’t need to date and then have to take out a loan to buy pints of Ben and Jerry’s when he screws me over.

Nodding my thanks, I drag naughty Hank away. I can’t help a backward glance, though. The cute guy waves, and I smile back, flipping my long hair over my shoulder before crossing the bridge to head home. On Hank’s next walk, I’m a bit disappointed when I don’t see cute guy and his long-haired black Chihuahua, but I remind myself of my pledge and let Hank pull me home.

Early Saturday morning, Hank is dancing by the front door to persuade me to take him on a walk. He gazes up at me with his big brown eyes and I smile back. “Okay, you’re no Labrador, but you’re pretty cute for a rat dog.” 

I load Hank in the car and he curls up on the other front seat. We head to the dog park in downtown Silver Spring. Hank races away as soon as the leash clicks off. I perch on top of the picnic table where the other dogs can’t reach me, scrolling on my phone. The enclosure’s gate creaks open. Suddenly, cute guy with a Chihuahua is here and showing off his butt as he leans over to release his own dog. Immediately, Hank runs over, and the two dogs begin their sniffing thing. 

Cute guy saunters over. “Hi, again. What’s your dog’s name?”

“Hank, a tough guy’s name. And I’m Patsy.” I stop hunching over my work phone and sit up straighter. “Yours?”

“Technically it’s Princess Priscella.” At my raised eyebrows, he shrugs. “My 7-year-old niece named her. I call her Ella. I’m Daniel.” 

The two dogs streak by, radiating dog happiness. We chat for a few minutes. I’m almost sorry to leave, but I need to keep to my mantra. I have work to do, anyway. After catching a reluctant Hank, we head home. 

Hank settles down on the couch next to me and I stroke his soft fur and give a gentle scratch behind his ears. “You’re not my little man, that’s gross, but you’ll do.” During Ashley’s last visit, it had felt weird, but right, to hug Hank close while she complained about her boyfriend.

DC traffic sucks all the time, so it wasn’t a surprise I was late getting home on Friday night, but I planned to enjoy the last gasp of warm weather. It was my favorite time of year, and I loved the falling leaves. Although all different kinds of trees grow along Sligo Creek, most of the leaves seemed to take on the translucent yellow that dominates the Maryland Fall landscape, creating a feeling of walking through a golden forest. 

Chin up, watching the falling leaves, I hear my name and see Daniel and Ella approaching from the other direction. When Hank catches sight of Ella, he practically bounces. 

“Well, they seem happy to see each other,” I say, brushing my hair back from my face. “It’s good to see you.” 

Good looking with a kind face, Daniel is tall enough that I could lean my head on his shoulders if we danced. He a little too dog oriented for my taste, but I find out he went to University of Maryland like me.

When it gets dark, I usher Hank away after we make plans to meet at the dog park the next day.

I pretend I’m not disappointed when Saturday morning is overcast and rainy. The temperature had dropped overnight. I dig in the back of my bedroom closet to find the sack of clothes Ashley had brought over for Hank. I dress him up in a puffy red and black jacket and consider what I should wear, finally deciding on my favorite top, which just so happens, is black and red. Then I wince, realizing we’re dressed alike. 

Luckily, the rain stops by the time we get to the dog park. Picking Hank out of his seat, I feel silly carrying him to the dog park, but know from experience Hank doesn’t like to get his dainty feet wet.

Unfortunately, Daniel and Ella aren’t there. We stand bored and alone until a miniature dachshund arrives with its person, but the dogs have no dog chemistry and ignore each other. 

At 10:45, I give up, but en route to the parking lot, Ella and Daniel appear. 

I wonder how I can turn around and follow them to the park without looking insane? 

But luckily the sun comes out, and Hank and Ella are so ecstatic to see each other, it seems natural to let them play together. Then Daniel and I have coffee at the local Starbucks, nabbing an outside table where both dogs settle at our feet. Exchanging numbers with Daniel so we could coordinate our dog walking together gives me a little thrill. 

And after a pizza at 4 Corners Pub (they allow dogs in the outside tent) I convince myself it was just a friend’s kiss when his warm lips brushed against mine at the beginning, and end, of dinner. I tell myself that European people kiss all the time, and it could catch on in Maryland, too.

The next weeks pass in a quick blur, always chaperoned by our Chihuahuas. I twist my mantra to ‘No men for a year unless I’m walking the dog.’ 

Hank and Ella don’t seem to mind their humans kissing and, eventually, having really fun sleepovers. Daniel and I see each other almost every day now. But I don’t trust it. I wait for him to have an evil twin or reveal he had been married six times before. And every time I think Daniel might be a long-term guy, I repeat my mantra. No men for a year. This is only a fun fling that doesn’t count. Dogs need to socialize. I almost believe myself.

I frown when a knock on my door is followed up by Ashley yelling hello. I open the door, and she rushes in with a red nose and weepy eyes. 

“I’ve come for my little man. Mike and I are finished.” 

I freeze. “What do you mean finished? Isn’t Mike living with you?” Hank, the little traitor, greets Ashley by dancing and wiggling. “What do you mean, take Hank?”

“This is the only man I need,” Ashley croons to Hank and buries her face in his neck. 

Hank stares at me with a desperate look as if to say: Rescue Me. 

“Don’t even talk to me about Mike. We’re so done. I never should have dumped Hank on you for so long. What’s it been, six weeks?” 

“Six months,” I mumble, feeling kind of fuzzy headed. 

“See, I’ve totally abused you. You don’t even like little dogs. I’m so sorry. Men. He was totally rude to my friends and doesn’t clean up after himself. It’s terrible living with that slob.” Hank struggles in Ashley’s arms, but she grasps him tighter. 

I resist the urge to take him out of her arms. “What did he do?” I ask, even though what I really want to talk about is Hank. 

Ashley lists all of Mike’s faults in great detail, which boil down to he’s a slob and forgot her birthday. She starts gathering Hank’s play toys and stuffing them into her oversized bag. 

Ashley leaves. I look around the empty condo. It’s way too quiet. A noise sounds at the door. My spirits rise and then plummet when Ashley barges inside, but without Hank. She’d forgotten his bowls. 

After a restless night and no word from Ashley, I’m bumming in my apartment. Texts from Daniel just rub salt in the wound. A joint dog walk, a meet at the dog park. The next day, the same. 

I put Daniel off. The invites seem like a lot to ignore, but it’s too hard to tell Daniel that I am now Hankless. How can I explain that I’m really sad, and I don’t know why? I mean, Ashley took him because he wasn’t ever mine. She did me a favor. I don’t like small dogs. 

I miss Hank greeting me when I came in the door. I liked it when he sat on my lap while I read and leaned against my leg when I cooked. And he hardly ever peed in the house. I hide in bed and call in sick, which is stupid. I worry Daniel’s more interested in having a friend for Ella than in me, which is stupid. I ignore another invite to meet at 4 Corners Pub, which is stupid. 

I know I have to either cut Daniel loose or come clean. I suggest meeting at the Farmers Market without dogs. Dressing, I give a deep sigh. Desperation is never a good color. 

I really intend to tell Daniel the truth right away, but when he gently hugs me and asks how I was feeling, I melt. Daniel listens to me stammer about work, holds my hand, and buys me ‘feel better flowers.’ And because I’m so nervous about what to tell him, each time I open my mouth, my voice freezes. Will Daniel’s kind eyes harden when he learns Hank is gone? And that he was never mine. 

The next day, Daniel pings me another invite for a dog walk. Desperate, I call Ashley and borrow Hank for a few days. Then she lets me dog sit for a week while she has to travel for work. I’m leading a double life with Daniel. All mantras have flown out of my mind.

When I approach my front door with Daniel and the two dogs in tow, an impatient Ashley blocks the entrance. 

“I got home early from my trip, so came to get Hank. Hi, I’m Ashley. You must be Daniel. What a cute dog!” She reaches down and scratches both Ella’s and Hank’s bellies as they wiggle in delight. Then she says how much she misses living with sweet, little Hank. 

I swear I actually feel Daniel’s inquiring glance brush against my skin. I ask him to open a bottle of wine, so I can take Ashley aside and tell her to keep her big mouth shut, but she ignores my signal to follow me into my bedroom. Instead, she trails Daniel after into the kitchen, talking away. 

A bundle of nerves, my mind blanks. I take a big sip of wine and choke on it when Ashley asks if I want to keep Hank forever. She and allergic Mike are engaged! She just wants one more night as Hank’s mama. 

I’m excited for her and nod, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I don’t look at Daniel. 

We toast Ashley’s glowing happiness. When the door finally shuts behind her and Hank, Daniel has a frown on his face. 

His fingers beat a tap on the couch arm, and he watches me closely when asking, “Why did Ashley ask if you wanted to keep Hank permanently?” Ella is sniffing around the base of the couch.

I roll my empty wine glass between my hands, avoiding his gaze. “Well, technically, Hank was hers, but now he’s mine.” I blurt out the story. The relief from finally telling the truth is so freeing, and I’m so thankful that it’s done that I ignore Daniel is still frowning. I wish Hank was here. 

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” Daniel leans over and picks up Ella, placing her on his lap. A gentle hand strokes her back.

“Nothing’s going on.” I start to get a little mad that Daniel won’t drop the subject. “What’s it matter to you?” I can’t stop the damning words coming out of my mouth. I know I should shut up.

Daniel’s expression changes. “What do you mean, what’s it matter to me? We’ve been going out with the dogs for months. Why haven’t you mentioned this? Did you make up that story about how you rescued Hank?”

My stomach drops. I had forgotten I said that when we first met. When I didn’t think I’d see him again. “Technically it’s true.” I rub my sweaty palms on my pants legs. “Ashley just dumped Hank on me, so I did rescue him.” I wish Hank was here to defend me. No one could resist his puppy eyes.

When Daniel’s frown didn’t go away, I said, “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Hank’s mine and it’s not like I have to tell you everything. We’re just friends.”

“What? Then what have we been doing these past few months? Are you just stringing me along until someone better comes along? Or are you seeing someone else right now?” Daniel put Ella back on the floor. He stood glaring at me. 

“Wait—that’s not what I meant! No, only Hank is with me now. I’m not stringing you along. I just didn’t want….” I let my voice trail off. 

“Didn’t want what?” Daniel asks. 

Mute, I shake my head. A hurt expression crosses Daniel’s face and his mouth clamps shut. At the door, he tells Ella they need to go. 

My stomach churning, I follow them to the elevator.  “Come on, Daniel. Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”

“I need some space. Friends.” The elevator doors close.

I throw myself on the couch and cry. I’m 33 years old and screwing it all up. I pick up my phone to text Daniel but make myself put it down before doing something stupid. I swore off men for a year. Maybe this is why. I’m an idiot. 

After Ashley drops off Hank the next day, I spend the day spoiling the little rat and ignoring the tears that continue to fall. I let Hank sleep on the bed. I take him for a long walk along Sligo Creek, missing Daniel, and chubby little Ella. The dog park is filled with puppies and dogs on Saturday morning, but no other Chihuahuas. For three solid days, I don’t see, hear, or try to contact Daniel besides six apology texts, a stupid voice mail, and one heartfelt email.

Daylight savings time sucks, I think. I won’t be able to walk Hank at our regular time and can’t leave work any earlier. I hope Daniel doesn’t think I’m avoiding him. I shudder at the thought of having to get up an hour earlier to walk Hank in the daylight. But I laugh internally, I don’t have much to stay up late for, anyway. I glance down at Hank high-stepping through the fall leaves. I know I can depend on him. He loves me even when I’m stupid.

A beautiful day, even though the trees are now naked up top and leaves only cover their roots. Hank trots happily in front of me. He investigates the tall grass along the side of the trail as a bicyclist whips by, leaving behind the tinkle of their silver warning bell. An older couple holding hands strolls by, chatting. 

Hank and I reach our regular turnaround point, and I stop in the middle of the bridge. As usual, I search for a sligo, a shell, that the creek was named for, but no luck. I shake my head. In all the times I’d come here, I had never seen a single shell in the shallow creek. Hank pulls on his leash to go, but I hold tight. I don’t feel like chasing him today. 

I hear my name from behind me. Taking a deep breath, I turn and see Daniel and Ella at the end of the bridge. He raises a hand in greeting. I feel… Oh, I don’t know what I feel. So instead of saying anything, I kneel and let the dogs jump all over me. I’m still focused on them when Daniel starts speaking.

“It was a surprise. We hadn’t talked about it, but I thought we were more than just friends. And it doesn’t matter how you got Hank. But you said he was a rescue and then made me feel like a jerk about asking you about it.”

“Well, now Hank is 100% officially mine,” I say with a sad chuckle, gently stroking the top of his head. “Ashley and Mike set the date. I’ve officially rescued him.”

Daniel said, “So it’s more of a timing thing.”

“And I’m not stringing you along. I really like,” I swallow hard. I stand and face Daniel, my eyes searching his face. “I mean, I more than just like you. But I had a bad relationship right before I met you and had this stupid mantra I wasn’t dating for a year. Then I met you. It really messed with my head. Hank’s been the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Daniel’s eyes warm a bit. I give him a tiny smile and we lean against the bridge’s railing and stare down at the creek, the two dogs wrapping their leashes around us. 

“Well, maybe I should have asked you out rather than walking Ella twice a day to make sure I ran into you during our dog walks.” 

“Twice a day, huh?” We watch the water flowing underneath the bridge. My hand feels safe under his. I lean my head on his warm shoulder. Hank dances behind us, batting my legs with his tiny paws. Ella gets into the game. 

“Do you want to take the dogs for a walk together?” I bring my lips near his.

Eyes crinkling at the corners, Daniel says, “Yes, I do.”

Elisabeth Lang is a Maryland writer with stories published in the Bay to Ocean Journal and in the Pen in Hand Literary Journal. She serves as NPR’s assistant treasurer, volunteers as the MWA’s Montgomery County Chapter president, and belongs to the Eastern Shore Writers Association.