Eduardo Rodriguez handed over a $10 bill for a $7 tire repair at Del Llano Tire in Denver.
The owner, Angel Acosta, took the cash, knelt on the greasy pavement outside the garage and called for Chata.
A black Chihuahua mix emerged from the garage and took the bill in her tiny mouth. She then scampered into the back office.
“Let’s see if he cheats you,” Adolfo Almanza, a longtime friend of Acosta’s, said to Rodriguez.
The small, struggling tire shop at 7th Avenue and Santa Fe Drive near downtown Denver revolves around Chata. The dog, whose name roughly translates to “snub nose,” cheers Acosta’s customers, most of them Hispanic, who have their own dog stories.
As he waited for change Thursday, Rodriguez said he had a dog in his hometown of Aguascalientes, in the Mexican state of Zacatecas, who would take away the dirty diapers of his little brother.
From his red Chevy van, Almanza brought out his own baby Chihuahua, about the color and size of a snowball, who is learning to wear a little money belt around his neck that only Almanza can touch. Almanza’s van is full of watermelons that he sells on street corners.
Acosta, the shop’s owner, bought a watermelon from Almanza and then headed into the office to see what happened to Rodriguez’s change.
Chata was sleeping on a chair cushion with the $10 bill tucked beneath her. A pair of parakeets chirped in a cage above her. Acosta took $3 from a desk drawer and gave it to Rodriguez.
Acosta’s helper is usually in the office when Chata brings the money for the $7 tire repairs. If Chata brings a $10 bill, the helper gives her $3 to take back to Acosta.
Acosta gives Chata a “Choco Milk” doggie treat that looks – and tastes – like a Hershey’s Kiss after every successful transaction.
Acosta bought Chata for $200 three years ago when she was a newborn. She was supposed to be pure-bred Chihuahua, but Acosta said she is at least half quién sabe (“who knows”).
Chata chewed up dollar bills as a puppy until Acosta taught her to respect them. When given ordinary paper, she spits it out on the ground and turns her hot-dog-shaped body in disgust.
“She really knows the difference,” said Acosta. “She is always smelling.”
Acosta has the gentle demeanor of Dr. Dolittle. He feeds 40 pounds of bird feed each week to a flock that patiently waits outside his garage each morning. Acosta’s wife, a first-grade teacher, has a cat named Patter who licks the grease off Chata after a hard day’s work.
Acosta said business has been slow at Del Llano ever since the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks – even though he charges less than half the price that nearby Firestone and Goodyear garages charge for a tire repair.
“Plus those guys don’t have mascots,” Acosta said.
Acosta did not part with Chata last year even when a woman offered him $1,500.
“She’s like my baby,” Acosta said. “If I leave her alone for a few hours, she gets angry.”
Increasingly, Chata is Acosta’s business partner.
“This neighborhood is mostly Mexican, but maybe Chata will bring more white people,” he said.
White customers who see Chata’s trick inevitably return for more repairs, Acosta said.
“They always ask, ‘Where’s Chata?”‘ he said.
Staff writer Ross Wehner can be reached at 303-820-1503 or rwehner@denverpost.com.
