Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Think a Mule is stubborn? Get a Dachshund!....

Dach-shund (n.) - a breed of dog that originated in Germany.  Originally bred to be a hunting dog with long torso, broad chest, short legs and powerful jaws and lungs, they are primarily used for the purpose of hunting Badgers and other rodents.  Badgers hide in self-dug tunnels and Dachshunds, because of their short stature and broad paws (for digging) are able to enter these tunnels and extricate the Badger.  Popular household pet in the United States of America.  Listed with the American Kennel Club (AKC) as the 7th most popular breed (down from 5th in 2002).  They are also known as "weiner dogs" or "sausage dogs."

Our family has owned three Dachshunds over the past twenty years (although not continuosly).  The first was Oscar (formal name Lord Oscar Meyer McTavish).  We only had him about a year and a half.  Because we were both employed full time and our kids were in school full time, we felt we couldn't give him the time and companionship he deserved.  Pat worked with a couple who had just lost their Dachshund after fifteen years so we offered Oscar to them and they gladly accepted him.
We kept tabs on him over the next several years until he died of old age (about fifteen years - that's 105 to you and me) and we learned that he spent about thirteen years bathing in luxury, feet practically never touching the bare ground, eating a diet of Alpo Gold and drinking spring water.  I imagined his new owners turning back his bed each night and placing a small square of dark chocolate on his pillow.  He would have never received that sort of treatments from the Sweatts, who were also of German heritage.

Our second dachshund was named Barney.  Like his predecessor, he too had a formal name registered with the American Kennel Club.  It was Sire Barnacle Foxworthiness of York (or something like that).  We obtained Barney in a most unusual way.  For several years I have been the auctioneer at a charity auction for the local Fraternal Order of Eagles.  This auction has all sorts of donated items and the proceeds go to a Christmas Party for underprivileged kids.  Although many items are donated by local businesses, a lot of them are donated by various members of the club.  One such member was a professional dog breeder and Dachshunds were her breed of choice.  This particular year she donated two full blooded Dachshund puppies, about eight weeks old, barely "weened" from their mother and natural brothers.  They were short-haired miniatures (full grown about 10 lbs.) and both slept through all the noise and hoopla.  These animals sell for about $300 when full blooded with both parents registered with the American Kennel Club.  I thought one of these pups would have made a great Christmas present for my family so when it came time to auction them, I announced that I was going to change roles from Auctioneer to "bidder" and handed the microphone over to my associate.  He sold them as "choice" or "times the money," meaning that the first high bidder got "first choice," or if they wanted both of them it would be "two times the money!"  I won high bid at $55.00 and (the late) Eric Bennett won the second one for $50.00.  We left them cuddled in the box until the auction was over.  After we paid the cashier, we went back over to the box and I told Eric to pick out the one he wanted (they were identical) and I would take the other one.  He picked his and I loaded mine up and took him home.
As with all puppies, he was very cute and I had no trouble getting the family to "fall in love" with him from the outset.  As it turned out, he had a wonderful personality, was very friendly and loved kids.  He fit right in with us.  He was genuinely a member of the family and was a full-fledged "lap dog."  He spent 90% of his waking hours in one of our laps or in our arms.  He was extremely affectionate.

I'm supposed to wear a hearing aid and several years ago, I did.  In fact, I'm supposed to wear two of them.  The one in my left ear seemed to work OK, so for a few years I wore one in that ear.  The one in my right ear never helped so I hardly ever wore it.  Most of the time it stayed in a box in the drawer in the night stand beside our bed.  Pat liked for me to wear it, particularly in the evening when we watched TV, because I didn't have to turn the volume way up in order to hear the television.  Two problems with hearing aids (for those of you who haven't owned any yet) are (1) they're annoying and (2) they're expensive.  A little known 3rd problem is that they "squeal" when you get a solid object too close to them such as a telephone.

One night I was sitting in my recliner watching something on TV.  Barney was wedged beside me and the inside edge of the chair, probably asleep.  The phone rang and Pat got up to answer it.  I heard her make "small talk" with whomever was on the other end which led into "did you want to talk with Hugh?...he's right over here!"
That was my cue to remove the hearing aid, placing it on the end table beside the recliner and get the telephone.  I got up and went over to talk on the phone.  As the conversation went on for several minutes, I saw my wife jump up from the couch and chase Barney down the hall toward the back bedroom as she yelled, "Barney, get back here...what have you got?"  My conversation continued when I saw her returning from the hall carrying what looked to be two pieces of chewed gum connected by a piece of wire.  When I hung up, I discovered it was my hearing aid.  Barney had retrieved it from the end table and gamefully proceeded to eat it.   Like Humpty Dumpty, "all the King's Horses and all the King's men were unable to put it back together again."  Barney sit at the base of my chair looking up at me with his big brown eyes, tail wagging and waiting for me to praise him (which didn't happen).  Fortunately, I was able to take the "guts" from the other hearing aid in the drawer and have a new hearing aid made for the left ear for a few hundred bucks (rather than two thousand).

Barney died a few months ago and now we have "Dach," (pronounced "Doc" and short for Dachshund), whose formal name is Baron Von Dachenheimer, Esq.   Dach is still a pup, being born Memorial Day of this year (he's about six months old).  Dach has a completely different personality from Barney although they share some common traits that go with being a Dachshund.  One is that they bark at anything that moves, such as the second hand on a clock or a jet plane over Nashville.  Domino's Pizza has a commercial on television that ends with a doorbell ringing and an announcer saying, "Get the door, it's Domino's," which makes Dach go ballastic!  Dach also has a set of toenails that rival Freddy Krueger's, the horror monster in the "Nightmare on Elm Street" series.  He has finally lost his puppy teeth so my arms and the back of my hands may still heal someday. 

I had a good laugh a few weeks ago as Pat had been reading a book and after becoming tired on the couch, she removed the glasses from her nose and placed them on one of the end tables beside her.  After she dozed off, Dach got to prowling around and discovered the glasses.  He took them under the dining room table and devoured the plastic earpieces and nose guards from them, rendering them basically useless.  After spending a few bucks she got them repaired a few days later and I kept reminding her of how "stupid" she thought I was for letting Barney do the same to my hearing aid.  I rubbed it in pretty good and didn't let up until a few days ago.

Well, lo and behold, this past Saturday, she drug me out of the house to help do some Christmas shopping.  We went to Owensboro to purchase gift certificates for our oldest son and his wife since they live over there and stopped in one of the restaurants to eat.  It was a very tiring experience and I was glad when we got home and I could retire to the recliner.  As soon as we got home, I freed Dach from his cage and took him outside to "do his business."  It was "spitting" rain so we didn't stay outside very long.  I grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and "plopped" down into the recliner. 

I usually don't brag about the fact that I wear a lower partial dental plate but I do.  I have had it so long that it is a natural part of my mouth.  It feels natural and I have no problem eating (you'd never guess), including things like apples and corn on the cob.  In other words, I never give the thing a thought.  Well, this particular Saturday night, a sesame seed or something had worked it's sneaky way into the bottom part of the plate and caused a "soreness" at it's base just inside the lower lip.  It was because of this that I removed the partial (which I hardly ever do) and set it on the end table beside the recliner (which I have NEVER DONE)!  It wasn't soon that I fell fast asleep.
About an hour later I felt a "scratching" on my right leg, just above the ankle.  It was what awoke me from a pretty deep slumber.  I leaned up and looked down just in time to see Dach look up at me and opening his mouth while lowering his head, he deposited my partial right at my feet.  Hurriedly I bent over and picked it up for a closer inspection.  Dach sat at my feet looking up at me, wagging his tail awaiting a pat on the head and some praise, just as Barney had done the night he ate my hearing aid.
I looked at the partial and discovered 4 teeth completely missing and another two broken off.  I could feel my blood pressure rise.  I quickly rushed to the bathroom sink and taking a toothbrush and toothpaste, I scoured the partial, cleaning it thoroughly.  I placed it back into my mouth.  It felt like I had just bit into a bag of broken glass.
I began to yell, "Dach, you #*&^@$^%?<>!!!!!!!  I'm gonna kick your %^^%#@!@*&!!!!  He seemed to get the message and quickly ran under the bed.

Long story short, I took the partial to my dentist for repair hoping he wouldn't be concerned about how it happened.  I even concocted a story on the way to his office about taking my wife dancing where a "bully" questioned her honor, forcing me to fight him and the partial got broken in the turmoil.  When it got down to the brass tacks, however, I had to tell him the truth.  He laughed loudly and gathered his staff....hygenists, clerks, janitor, EVERYONE and everyone laughed as he repeated the story.
I could tell by the look on their faces they were thinking "Man, how did you get to be so stupid?"  He's keeping the partial for a few days trying to repair it.  I'm sure this won't be cheap as he took new "impressions" just in case.  Dach automatically runs and hides under the bed when I come home now.

I went to the store this afternoon and purchased about a week's worth of oatmeal and soups...I figure this'll be my diet for about a week.  Of course all my buddies want to know where my teeth are and I'm avoiding my five year old granddaughter altogether because I know she'll have a "zillion" questions.  The lady at the drive in window at my bank kept staring at me incessantly this afternoon.  If I had a plaid suit, I'd be mistaken for "Speck" Rhodes of Porter Wagoner's old show.

My goal is to get Dach through his "puppy stage."  I've read in several books that this takes about a year.  Until then, we're trying to learn to only leave "expendable" items on the tables he can get to such as bars of soap or large rocks.  At least if he eats this stuff he'll break his own teeth or be too sick to bark at anything. 
If we can just keep this up for six more months.......

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