Is it a Rat?

So this is what happens when the whirlwind that is my mother shows up on her way out of town & suddenly has to run back home to get something. I end up with the family dog (if you can call him a dog -- he weighs less than 4 lbs.), Julio, sitting on my desk at work... whimpering for her to come back & rescue him, for God's sake, as if he is just so abused. He loves me & all, but if my mom leaves, he absolutely fucking panics. Then again, what can you expect from a dog who spends a majority of his time curled up in a fuzzy leopard-print slipper in her closet -- BY CHOICE? After all, he did spend the first month of his life w/ us in a velvet evening bag slung over my mom's shoulder (so she could take him to work w/ her b/c he was too small to be left alone... seriously). It's pitiful, I tell you, pit-i-ful.

Oh, and by the way, I find it important for my family's integrity to say that we acquired this little chihuahua loooong before Paris Hilton & Britney Spears started accessorizing with them, okay? Okay. Duly noted.