As if life were not complicated enough, the world has dealt old Howie yet another wicked hand. Turns out, my belief in the fact that I am a regal and noble Yorkshire Terrier has been called into question. My handlers have been murmuring about my long and luxurious legs for several months now, "He seems a bit large for a Yorkie", they would say after their endless drinking. The male clown figure decided to take it a step further and do a little web research, but nothing came of it, because he is an idiot.
Last weekend, we took a trip to what appeared to be a special little afternoon walking benefit for the APL, Strut Your Mutt it was called. It turned out to be a nightmare for my self-esteem and identity. Some know it all Yorkie owner came up and suggested I might be a Snorkie, that being a Schnauzer Yorkie mix breed. She was walking two Snorkie and they looked eerily like myself. Sickening if you ask me, my blood line has been tainted by the Schnauzer. Now the handlers tell everyone I am a Shnorkie, while the baby continues to crap his pants. I don't know what is worse, the baby, my obnoxious handlers, or finding out my mother was a whore?
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