My chihuahua, Nacho, keeps a schedule. It is more rigid than mine, more sacred than any holiday, and it is built almost entirely around the assumption that I exist to serve it. People imagine a small dog's day is mostly sleeping. They are correct, but they are missing the astonishing amount of administration Nacho packs into the waking gaps. Here is what a chihuahua actually does all day, hour by demanding hour.
5:47 a.m.: the alarm that cannot be snoozed
Nacho does not know what a weekend is. His internal clock is set to a time I did not choose and cannot change, and it goes off by walking up the length of my body and standing on my sternum. There is no button for this. There is only surrender. The chihuahua has decided the day begins, and the chihuahua, being four pounds of pure conviction, wins.
6:00 a.m.: breakfast, treated as a hostage negotiation
Breakfast is a small, measured amount of food that Nacho greets as though it were the last meal on Earth. The measuring is not optional; on a dog this size, an extra spoonful is a real percentage of the animal, which is one of many things I learned the hard way and wrote down in the chihuahua daily care routine. He inhales it in nine seconds, then looks up at me with the expression of a dog who has not been fed since the Carter administration.
6:20 a.m.: morning patrol
With breakfast secured, Nacho assumes his post at the window to conduct the day's first threat assessment. The threats include: a leaf, a jogger, a much larger dog who has no idea Nacho exists, and the mail truck, which he has been trying to warn me about for three years. Each is announced at a volume that seems physically impossible from a body this small. This is the part of the day the neighbors enjoy least, and it is why I spent a lot of time learning what all that noise actually means, which is its own long story in chihuahua barking: causes and training solutions.
7:30 a.m.: the first nap, which is serious business
Patrol is exhausting work, apparently, because by mid-morning Nacho has vanished. Not left. Vanished. He has burrowed under a blanket until only a small, breathing lump remains, and he will stay there, dead to the world, for a good while. This is not laziness. Chihuahuas genuinely sleep a large share of the day, in many short bursts, and burrow because they are tiny, thin-coated, and always slightly cold. I used to worry it was too much sleep. It is not, and I explain exactly how much is normal in how much do chihuahuas sleep.
10:00 a.m.: the velcro shift begins
Here is where the day turns, because a chihuahua that is awake is a chihuahua that must be touching you. Nacho follows me to the kitchen. He follows me to the office. He follows me, and I want to be clear that I am not exaggerating, into the bathroom, where he lies down against the door and waits, in case I attempt to escape through the plumbing. This is not clinginess as a flaw. It is the entire reason the breed exists, and I made a kind of peace with it in living with a velcro chihuahua. The lap is claimed. The lap is always claimed.
12:30 p.m.: enrichment, or convincing a small dog to use its brain
Somewhere in the middle of the day, a chihuahua needs a job, or it will invent one, and the one it invents is usually destruction. So Nacho gets a food puzzle, or a snuffle mat, or a frozen stuffed toy, or a game of fetch down the hallway that he wins every time by refusing to bring the ball back. On bad-weather days, which a chihuahua treats as a personal insult, this indoor circus is the whole show, and I have catalogued the good options in how to keep your chihuahua happy indoors.
3:00 p.m.: the second nap
See 7:30 a.m. Repeat. The lump returns. The sunbeam, if there is one, is located and occupied with the precision of a cat. I have learned to work around a sleeping chihuahua the way you learn to work around a napping toddler, which is to say quietly and with a low-grade fear of waking it.
5:30 p.m.: the zoomies, which have no explanation
For reasons science cannot fully account for, a well-rested chihuahua will occasionally detonate. Nacho sprints laps of the apartment at a speed that should not be possible, ears pinned, eyes wild, taking the corners like a very small, very unlicensed race car. This lasts about ninety seconds. Then it stops as suddenly as it started, and he looks at me as if I were the one behaving strangely.
7:00 p.m.: dinner, and then the long cuddle
Dinner is breakfast's equal in drama. And then, at last, the day arrives at its true purpose, which was never patrol or naps or zoomies. It was this: the evening on the couch, where Nacho presses himself against me, sighs the sigh of a dog whose long shift is finally over, and settles in. He will migrate under the blanket by bedtime, because a chihuahua does not so much sleep near you as attempt to become part of you.
Frequently asked questions
What do chihuahuas actually do all day?
Mostly sleep, in many short naps, punctuated by intense bursts of eating, window patrol, following their person around, a midday need for mental stimulation, and the occasional inexplicable sprint. The waking hours are busy and people-focused; the breed was built for companionship, so much of the day is spent supervising you.
Why does my chihuahua sleep so much during the day?
Because it is normal. Adult dogs sleep a large share of the day, and low-key companion breeds like the chihuahua nap on the higher end, in short bursts between activity. As long as your dog is bright and normal when awake, daytime sleeping is expected, not a problem.
Why does my chihuahua follow me everywhere?
Chihuahuas were bred as companion dogs and bond hard to their people, often to one favorite person, so shadowing you from room to room is the breed doing its job. It only warrants concern if the dog panics when actually left alone, rather than simply preferring your company.
Do chihuahuas get bored at home?
They can, and a bored chihuahua tends to bark or chew to fill the time. A mix of short walks, food puzzles, sniffing games, and training keeps the day interesting enough to head off most of that behavior, even in a small apartment.
The arrangement
That is the day. Naps bookended by fierce, loud, loving little jobs, almost all of them about me. Somewhere along the way I stopped thinking I owned a dog and started understanding that I am a fixed point in a very small creature's very full schedule. I am the sun this planet orbits. I am, as far as Nacho is concerned, the whole point. You could do a lot worse than being someone's whole point.
