Spot the Chihuahua was born blind. The kids called him Spot because they thought it was funny and, well, he wouldn’t know any better, would he?
You would think that a tiny blind dog would be on the timid side, but not Spot. He confronted Dobermans and Great Danes without hesitation, just a little confusion as to why their prime sniffing area was so high off the ground. He chased squirrels halfway up trees, following their scent and footfalls, and he wouldn’t let Mr. Kane, the cranky old neighbor, anywhere near the yard, even to return a lost ball or Frisbee.
When it came to catching flying discs, he was the block champ. Nobody could figure out how he did it, but he would leap four feet in the air to catch one and never missed. He was never happier than when he was trotting up with a teeth-marked neon-colored circle of plastic in his mouth. Blue ones were his favorite. We could never figure out why.
Maybe that’s why he developed a fondness for chasing cars, something to do with the Frisbees. It was always the left rear wheel he was after. A couple of times, we found him blocks away, shaking and barking in rage and frustration at the left rear wheel of a parked car.
Spot weighed less than ten pounds, but he just couldn’t see the point of being afraid of anything. I’m glad he never saw it coming, the second car.