So it’s been nearly 4 months since I adopted Taffy, a 2 1/2 year old female Chihuahua mix. If you remember, I’ve already blogged about her twice. And although she simply can’t be much cuter, she’s not exactly what I expected from our initial meeting. In other words, don’t let cute fool you.

Now don’t get me wrong. I adore that little pain in the ass who’s only slightly bigger than a gnat. But when all is said and done, Taffy misrepresented herself when we first met. Yes, she’s a sly one, that gal. She caught my eye with her adorableness, but I wasn’t alone. On walks at the shelter, nobody passed by who didn’t comment on that sweet face. Her cuteness is like a magnet pulling you in. And trust me, she uses it to full advantage.

While I fostered Taffy after she had puppies, she was on her best behavior. I mean, she’s no dummy. She saw a sucker coming and thought, here’s my chance to escape the shelter and go home with this lady who I bet has a bunch of animals I can play with. And she was right.

When I brought Taffy to meet my menagerie, she worked her cuteness to the max. She never barked (rare for her breed) but I credited that to the non-Chihuahua in her. She instantly liked my dogs, Callie, Skip and Wally and they accepted her into the fold. The cats took a little longer since I don’t believe Taffy knew what they were. But after a few days she lost interest in them and they in her.

Wally and Taffy’s morning ritual

So I adopted Taffy.

The thing is, once she sensed she’d won me over, she let her guard down. I had found Taffy’s sweet whimper quite adorable compared to my barking maniac, Wally, who alerts me to anything that moves outside. Turns out Taffy is a quick learner. I now experience the not-so-pleasing renditions of barking in stereo. Her cute whimper is a thing of the past.

Taffy’s profile stated she was potty trained, which I considered a bonus since Skip and Wally still struggle with memory loss at the concept of using the dog door. But Taffy previously lived in a San Francisco apartment and was alone 10 hours a day; consequently, she was trained to pee and poop on a puppy pad. Oh Lordy. After 2 1/2 years of using pads, Taffy SIMPLY CANNOT fathom the idea of doing her business outside.

See what I mean?

I’m telling you, even placing the pad outside doesn’t work. No, it has to be near the French doors leading to the backyard, but not actually in the yard. On the rare occasions Taffy has peed during our walks, she does it on cement, then stares at it in wonder. That makes sense since peeing on a pad doesn’t produce visible urine, so it’s a mystery to her when she witnesses it. It appears I’ll be buying pee pads for the next 15 years. Lucky me.

Again, don’t get me wrong; her barking and her potty training issues aren’t the only bonuses my little pretty has in store. There’s much more she successfully hid from me. Trust me, you’ll be hearing about it.

What are you talking about? I’m perfect.

Still, when I look at that face as she adoringly gazes up at me with those deep brown eyes, she has me right where she wants me (and she knows it). Suddenly her not-so-pretty traits don’t seem so terrible anymore. This, my friends, is what happens when you let cute fool you.