I’m Alejandro. A dog. Chihuahua, to be exact. My owner, Al, is an upholsterer. We live together at his house. It’s big! Al has a friend, Chuck. I don’t like him. Sometimes when Al isn’t looking, he kicks me.

One day, Chuck drops by. He doesn’t call. Just stands on the porch and bangs on the security screen. I run toward the door and slide across the tile entry. I bark incessantly.

Al appears. He picks me up. I don’t know why he lets this schmuck in, but he does.

My ears flatten. Baring my sharp teeth, I growl.

“Don’t mind, Alejandro. He’s harmless,” Al tells Chuck and carries me into the kitchen and sets me free on the cold floor.

Chuck plops his ass on a kitchen chair, and frowns.

My head’s down. Sniffing. Sniffing. Sniffing. My nose is following the schmuck’s scent. Bingo! I hump.

“Fucking dog!” he yells as he tries to shake me off.

But I’m locked on. I have a firm grip on Chuck’s pant leg. Up, down, up, down, up, down. I’m not letting go. I’m riding this bull. I’ll show him who’s boss.

Then Chuck delivers a kick that sends me flying across the room.

I land on my magnificent plush purple doggie bed.  It’s embroidered in gold. Lying there with my head resting on my paws, I focus my dark, bulging eyes on Chuck’s enormous head. Again, I growl.

Chuck gives me a dirty look. His eyes squint. He’s one mean hombre. There’s something about his face—sagging jowls, jaw protruding and flat nose.

My top lip quivers. Can’t help it. I leap and charge.

“Alejandro. No!” Al sets his beer on the counter.

Chuck jumps out of his seat. “Get rid of that little son-of-a-bitch.” He runs out of the front door.

Al leans down, pats my head, and gives me a treat. “Good boy,” he says.

I lick his face and wag my tail.