Sharp-toothed vicious little beasts

Don't get me wrong, this is a great little town; I love it here. There is one problem that is being totally ignored, like a bad case of denial. It is the roaming gangs of ravenous, ankle meat loving Chihuahuas that rule the streets at night. I have endlessly complained about them, and nothing is being done. Instead the townspeople are focusing their ire on the shinanigans of the wing of turkeys that harm nobody. I am at the end of my rope. My evening walks have become excursions into a surreal battlezone, worse than Apocalypse Now. I can no longer rely on my Five Iron to keep me safe. My shouts of "fore" will no longer be heard. It simply is not safe anymore. I need to up the ante on those vicious f***ers.
It all started when I quit watching television and began taking walks instead. The first few Ratbags were cute, I admitt and I even thought about adopting one of them. The lowly Chihuahua, alone, is remarkably adorable. In a pack, however, they take on a dark nature absolutely hidden in the light of day. I have read that nearly all breeds of dogs decend from the man-mauling brutes that the Romans brought into battle with them. With the tiny Chihuahua, the size must have been bred out, thereby emphazising latent viciousness. My ankles hurt, just thinking about them. More later, as I have a doctor appointment to sew-up the gashes on my throat.