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The Porcupine's Quill: A Satire Column
by Arshad M. Khan
by Arshad M. Khan
Please scroll down for
the satire column
Porcupine's Quill
the satire column
Porcupine's Quill
September 6, 2015
THE SYRIAN CHIHUAHUA
News Item: The world refugee crisis was spotlighted again by the discovery of a
three-year old boy's body washed ashore at a holiday resort.
A Syrian chihuahua you might ask ... Well, we are everywhere ... everywhere where
there are ladies with a large handbag and the need for a constant, loving
companion. My beloved owner took me along when we escaped the guns and bombs.
But here's the sad part. She never survived the harrowing trek and voyage. I did.
The natural consequence of four legs instead of two, a very small appetite and an
unborn ability to swim -- plus I am not hampered by clothes.
All the way humans kept taking pity on me. I went through several temporary
adoptions.
The Greeks were so nice even though they hardly have enough to eat themselves.
The Italians had a humanitarian cordon to help in rescues until the nasty British
bulldog got them to stop. Guard dogs of the nastier variety now patrol the seas and
shores locking up the unfortunate. No more lovely Italian greyhounds to nuzzle up to.
And in Germany, whew! We have a word for our females I'd prefer not to use, but the
German Schnauzer named after angels is still better than the nasty English bulldog,
although now she has rottweilers and dobermans -- no more silky dachshunds -- and
they are sending many of us back ... to God knows where ...
Maybe there is hope in Sweden, and I hear Iceland beckons.
THE SYRIAN CHIHUAHUA
News Item: The world refugee crisis was spotlighted again by the discovery of a
three-year old boy's body washed ashore at a holiday resort.
A Syrian chihuahua you might ask ... Well, we are everywhere ... everywhere where
there are ladies with a large handbag and the need for a constant, loving
companion. My beloved owner took me along when we escaped the guns and bombs.
But here's the sad part. She never survived the harrowing trek and voyage. I did.
The natural consequence of four legs instead of two, a very small appetite and an
unborn ability to swim -- plus I am not hampered by clothes.
All the way humans kept taking pity on me. I went through several temporary
adoptions.
The Greeks were so nice even though they hardly have enough to eat themselves.
The Italians had a humanitarian cordon to help in rescues until the nasty British
bulldog got them to stop. Guard dogs of the nastier variety now patrol the seas and
shores locking up the unfortunate. No more lovely Italian greyhounds to nuzzle up to.
And in Germany, whew! We have a word for our females I'd prefer not to use, but the
German Schnauzer named after angels is still better than the nasty English bulldog,
although now she has rottweilers and dobermans -- no more silky dachshunds -- and
they are sending many of us back ... to God knows where ...
Maybe there is hope in Sweden, and I hear Iceland beckons.