While doing some work on the computer this morning, my mind wandered to this blog. I wondered to myself:
"Self, why are your posts so few and far between?"
I answered, with a firm voice and all-knowing tone: "Self, it's because you spend your LIFE on a computer. By the time you're done, you're done. Not one more key can be punched."
I then started working on our state taxes... which required two computers and a fight with the State's website. I got mighty pissed off during this adventure but remained determined to beat the State. Shout out that I persisted. An hour later, I finished the stupid thing, only to learn we owed $8.00.
That sucks. Oh sure, it's only eight dollars but that sucks. I hate our state. No money for us, no funding for anyone, billions of dollars gone somewhere other than it should have gone. I thought about saying "screw you!" about the eight bucks but decided to pay it and be done with it.
Onward to the topic of our four-footed friends. Ah, the fun of gleaning doggy DNA.
I decided to test Bandido's DNA to see what she really might be made of. I figured Rosita is pretty much a poodle with a drop of bichon mixed in, so no need to test her. Bandido is a mystery. She's a whole lot bigger than we anticipated. Her peanut head makes her body look even bigger. Her long legs make no sense. We know she is probably several forms of terrier, but that doesn't explain her legs.
I ordered the DNA testing kit. It is a pricey little thing but I suppose DNA testing isn't cheap. I figured it was good for some entertainment, so I justified the price with little argument. The test arrived quickly, quite to my surprise and delight.
I thought this would be a snap. I watched the video as suggested. I read and re-read the instructions. I took out the little swab thing. I set up the box so it would be ready for air-drying the sample.
It was then I began chasing Bandido around the house.
She was having NOTHING.TO.DO.WITH.IT.
Imagine trying to stick a little plastic thing with a small brush on the end between a dog's cheek and gums when the dog doesn't really have cheeks. I imagine dogs with big jowls are really easy to get a DNA sample from. But, Bandido--there's nothing there. Just a lot of wiry hair.
No cheeks. No floppy jowls. Just sealed-tight lips.
I tried everything to get a DNA sample, only to get the wire brush caught in her hair several times. At one point, she ran away with the DNA test wand tangled in her facial hair. It was hard to convince her letting me pull it out was a good idea.
Right away I started thinking about how much easier it would be to get a sample from anywhere except her mouth. Just sayin.'
The test directions indicated I needed to take 15 seconds worth of DNA sampling. 15 seconds my ass. I was going for the one second method. I tried getting her to lick it. I tried getting her to drool by putting cheetos in front of her nose. I tried being gentle. I tried being forceful. I tried being sneaky. I finally got about a half-second's worth of DNA. I decided that was good enough.
No one has ever mentioned how hard it is to get a DNA sample without using two people and a crow bar. Well, I am mentioning it now.
I then realized I needed another sample. I went and got the second stick and prepared for battle. As you can imagine, this went no better than my first attempt; in fact, it went even worse. She knew what was coming and her lips were sealed. She was as determined not to give me a sample as I was determined to get one. The wife wasn't around and I didn't have a crow bar, so I just did my best.
This time I probably got .75 of a second's worth of sampling. I shoved that sample into the envelope and stuffed it in the mailbox. If they can't figure things out from those lousy samples, they can send me my money back and we'll just assume Bandido is a Yorkie/Min Pin/rottweiler/chihuahua (all dogs along the Tex-Mex border seem to have some form of chihuahua in them). Perhaps there is a little Irish Wolfhound in there. She does seem to think she is quite large and in charge.
It takes about two weeks to get results. By then, she will probably have forgiven me for the torturous testing fiasco. I look forward to posting the results. What do I actually think I'm going to learn? Nothing. My guess is that the test will come back with the dreaded "mixed breed" as at least half of the results.
For the record, if the test comes back human, it's my fault. No, I didn't put the stick in my mouth but I did end up putting my hands all over the damn thing. Perhaps I should have put one stick in my mouth to throw them off. That'd be a true test.
I hate to tell her... if she comes back yorkie and chihuahua and nothing more, she's going to have to go on a diet. There is no way she should be so big when made of those two small breeds. No Chorkie weighs 16 pounds. Bandido better pray for pit bull or German Shepard or rottweiler in there.
She's going to need therapy if this happens. First the sticks, then the diet. Oh, she will not be happy. She'll demand a recount. I can't blame her.
I say to her: Be warned, amiga: this time I will be armed with the wife and a crow bar. No second round of inconclusive testing.
Chorkie. Chorkiepin. Chorkler. Chorkiepard.
Let the lab results be shared with the world.... and, let the lab results not be human.
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