Mother and Father left us last week. I knew something suspicious was happening when they brought out the suitcases. Never a good sign. They kept babbling about going to “The Happiest Place On Earth”, which I had previously ASSUMED was here, when they were with me. But now I know where their hearts truly lie. Then, Saturday morning, they LEFT us. Put me in the bedroom with the door shut, instead of leaving me freely roaming as I am normally allowed to do in my own home. Not. Okay.

So I decided to take action.

I figured I could dig my way out of the room. If Andy Dufresne could do it with a damn miniature hammer, then this canine surely could find the way out of my prison.  Perhaps I could find parents who would appreciate the love and unlimited kisses I had to offer.   After probing my surroundings, I determined that the weakest spot was also the most obvious: the doorway.

A layer of carpet sat under the doorway. Naturally, I surmised that if I could remove this carpet obstacle, I could find a way under the door. Carpet is usually what, 2 feet deep in these houses?  I used my mighty paws and my vicious fangs to begin hollowing out the space. I was making some quick progress when I heard someone enter the house. Someone not being Mom or Dad.  I furiously continued to burrow through the carpet, shredding the fibers with my teeth and growling in anticipation of release.  I felt like I was almost there. Footsteps were coming closer & closer.  When the door opened, I was able to see the extent of my progress.

You can call me Shredder.

After Dad’s friend picked the carpet remnants from my teeth, I heard him on the phone with Dad.  I think I heard crying, and something about a security deposit. Totally worth it.

For the rest of the week, I was free to roam the lower level of my home. Escape plan: Success.


Victory, Beefy Treats, and Kisses

Well my friends, it looks like we survived the onslaught of the Squirrels for now.  I have taken the past few days to ruminate on the events of the fateful Fourth, and I have come to one conclusion: we must remain ever diligent. We have held them back, defeated this most recent effort to overthrow our world, but They will not cease. We must always be prepared, for one never knows when the Squirrels will plan an ambush. Nevertheless, we celebrated our victory with beefy flavored treats and lots of belly rubs from the humans. All is well.

It was eerily quiet that evening. Mommy and Daddy seemed subtlely anxious. I had followed through with my plans to fortify our location, and was waiting patiently for the attack. But, as soon as the first pops started, another sound trickled though the air. It slowly got louder and louder, filling the night sky with its battle cry. Lights started flashing, but these were different lights than the other evenings. They pulsed through the street methodically, and Mommy and Daddy sighed with relief and rose with curiosity as the source of the lights flew by the house.  A band of humans, going to quell the Rebellion, sounding the alarm for all around as they headed into the fray of battle. The explosions stopped as suddenly as they had begun. It is difficult for me to admit, fellow canines, but the humans warded off the Squirrel Rebellion. While I am still suspicious of their motives (& still not fully convinced of Mommy and Daddy’s true allegiances), let us all give lick-faces to our human companions this evening.

I hope Wuss is crying in his treehole somewhere. Fluffy little bastard.

Day 3 of the Squirrel Rebellion.

The bombing has continued for 3 nights now. The squirrels seem to be engaging in some sort of nocturnal warfare; as soon as the sun falls below the horizon and the sky darkens, the explosions start. Thus far, no direct hits to our fortress have been made.  This reinforces my sickening theory that Mommy and Daddy are indeed covert operatives for the Squirrel Rebellion.  The little rodents would not endanger their own spies while they are still beneficial to the Mission.

I am attempting to communicate in secret at this point, so as to avoid interception of my reports to you, fellow comrades. Mommy thinks I am just chewing on a rawhide bone behind the couch; luckily, my pawpaws allow me to type swiftly and silently.

I am working on a defense and counter-attack strategy.  I have overheard Mommy and Daddy murmuring about “the 4th”, and referring to it as Independence Day.  This is obviously the date that the Squirrel Faction intends to execute their primary attack, thereby taking over civilization as we know it and gaining Independence.  But do not fear, my fellow canines- we shall unite and stave off the Squirrels, led by that fluffy little bastard, Wuss. Below is the detailed, highly confidential plan to ward off the Rebellion. Whatever you do, DO NOT allow this message to fall into the wrong hands.  (Where is an R2D2 unit in which to hide your secret plans when you need it…)

Step 1: Collect the necessary supplies. Once the attack commences, we will need ample resources to keep up our energy. Work on collecting all the dog treats, rawhide bones, and food that you can get your paws on. I plan to steal some of the slobbering beast’s food and hide it in my super secret spot in the corner of the room behind the lamp. Tip: Dirty socks provide good camouflage from the humans for your hidden provisions.

Step 2: Construct the appropriate fortifications. Once the explosions start hitting home after dark, we will need additional protection from debris and shrapnel. I recommend stealing the humans’ blankets and pillows. I should be able to con the larger dog into assisting with the construction so as to speed the process significantly. My Tiny Legs of Might can only do so much.

Step 3: Prepare booby traps. Now, this is where you can get creative. Tip 1: Strategically placed poo can throw off the Squirrels’ human counterparts, especially in the dark. You will probably need to start this step ASAP, so get to work on it. Also, it means that those of you who consume feces need to refrain from digesting the battle materials. (Also, stop being disgusting. Hillbilly. Have some respect for yourself and quit shaming your species.) Tip 2: Arrange your toys to add to the obstacles prohibiting entry into your fortification (entryway placement is ideal). The Squirrels may not know what the foreign objects are, and may be delayed by their tiny little brains when they cannot recognize the entity in its path. Tip 3:  Take out the lights inside the house. That way, we can operate under the stealth of night and eliminate the Squirrels’ advantage in this regard. I recommend climbing on furniture and knocking over lamps. Yes, the humans will get angry, but this is why you must plan to complete this portion of the booby-trapping last. If you can, blame it on the cats in your residence. They also hate squirrels, so they should go along with it (for now. Watch your back for retaliation from those cold-blooded creatures).

Step 4: Battle.

The Squirrels will likely attempt to infiltrate your home after several direct bombing hits weaken your defenses. Remember to stay calm and focused, and don’t reveal your position for attack until you are close enough to see the wiggling of their noses. They may have infiltrated the humans, they may have found a large stockpile of heavy explosives, and they may even have us beat in pure numbers, but WE, my fellow canines, outweigh them in brains, physical strength, and heart. If we can outlast the initial attack, and lure them into our battleground, we are sure to emerge victorious.

Step 5: Victory, followed by raiding of the Humans’ food pantries.


-General Grumpy Dachshund

Keep Your Arms to Yourself. Oh Wait, They’re So Freakishly Short That You Have No Other Choice

Sometimes, I like to get philosophical. As I lounge in the sun, trying to ignore the slobbering beast laying nearby, I think of squirrels some more. And the many ways I hate them. This, in turn, logically leads me to other things I hate.  Exhibit A: Freakishly short arms on things.

Things with freakishly short arms which I hate:

-Squirrels. Obvious. The way they sit there on their hind legs with their deformed tiny limbs perched limply. Sickening. I shall go vomit on the patio to show my dominance and disgust. Mommy will understand.

-T-rex. They think they’re soooo tough, but they can’t even touch their own faces with those impotent things they call “arms”. Freak.

-Kangaroos. The T-Rex of deer. Whoever thought it was hilarious to put boxing gloves on them is obviously mentally ill.

Now, some of you less intelligent humans may say: but Grumpy Dachshund, you have short legs as well, how can you hate on your own kind? To which I respond:

False. MY legs:

1. Are fully functional & useful, unlike the ridiculous T-Rex. My COMPLETELY PROPORTIONAL TO THE REST OF MY BODY legs allow me to gallop at high speeds, especially in furious circles around the living room. Also they allow me to pivot sharply to avoid Mommy’s brush when she tries to strip me of my fur. T-Rexes, contrastingly, have arms that do not make ANY sense in comparison with their size.  I’m pretty sure God created T-Rexes after a few too many dog treats, drunk with power and peanut butter flavor.  There is no other explanation.

2. Are insanely adorable, thereby distinguishable from those hideous squirrels.  My “pawpaws”, as Mommy calls them, are chubby and tiny and irresistible.  I can suck people in with my cuteness, perching on my hind legs and waving my delightful hands at them, & then, as they grab my paws to shake hands, hypnotize them with kisses until they fully submit to my awesomeness.  Squirrels, on the other hand, are just hideous rodents. Their tiny arms can barely hold those stupid nuts they like to crunch obsessively. They are lean and scratchy and NOT CUTE AT ALL.

3. Don’t need boxing gloves (*cough*kangaroos*cough*) to be tiny limbs of terror.  If you mess with me, I am not afraid to slap you in the face. Ask the other dog that squats here. Or Daddy.  I don’t need any assistance in taking a bitch down. If you mess with my toys, or try to take my bone, I will not hesitate to beat you into subservience with my tiny fists of fury.

I know it may be tough for you to keep up with my logic, since I am clearly an advanced being. Just remember that I am adorable, yet vicious- an enigma of perfection. Those other creatures are just jokes of nature.

Time to lather Daddy in kisses until he wakes up with my pawpaws on his face.

Squirrels. Die.

Squirrels. The bane of my existence (other than that other dog that thinks she lives here).  They prance around, wagging that huge fluffy monstrosity of a tail, taunting me. I keep warning the humans, trying to sound the alarm of their evil plot to overthrow civilization. All Mommy does is rub her head. Must be a sign that she needs more kisses until she is ready to listen.

Even when I’m minding my own business, sniffing the dirt, munching on some grass in my backyard, those damn squirrels saunter out. The Head Squirrel, who we shall call Wuss, just sits on the other side of the fence, TOO SCARED to come say his chittering taunts TO MY FACE.

I let loose a fury of responses, letting that squirrel know that this is my house. Mommy joins in; I can’t hear what she’s saying over my own monologue, but I’m sure it’s shouts of support and love for my efforts to protect us from those cowardly squirrels. After 10 minutes or so, she comes out and scoops me up, rescuing me from the exhaustion that is setting in from my lengthy and impassioned speech. She is also irritated, clearly with Wuss and his ugly, beady little eyes. As she shuts the back door and whispers “silence”, I know it’s so we can meditate on our victory together.  I can still catch a glimpse of Wuss outside as we sit on the couch, and my bravery takes over as I leap to the top of the couch and continue my war cry. Mommy starts whimpering in pride. She is totally impressed with my manliness and courage. Finally, Wuss scurries up his tree, and I know that we have won the battle. The war is not over yet though. Not until I strike fear into the hearts of every single squirrel with my voice.  Mommy and Daddy will be so proud of me.


Let me lick your face. Let me lick your face. Let me lick your face. Lick. Face. Lick. Face. Face. Licking. Face. Lick. Kisses. Now. Lickface.

If I say “lick” enough, will it lose all meaning, thereby lowering your defenses and allowing me to give you unlimited voracious kisses? I thought so. Grab a towel- it’s about to get real.

Thine Enemy

I wait. She continues to stare at me, wagging her stupid tail, slobbering all over her face. Disgusting.

I stay completely still. Perhaps she is like a T-Rex, losing me if I don’t move.

She starts growing impatient. I can sense it. She shifts, and then starts bouncing around like a kangaroo on crack. I glare at her while she careens in circles around me, getting dangerously close to my chew toy.  My mind begins to race with all the methods of torture I will enact upon her if she goes for the toy gripped firmly in my jaws. She shall not have it.

My war growl begins rumbling from the depths of my belly. My eyes dart briefly to the left, and as the stupid beast hops right, I sprint to the side and fly past her.  What a bumbling fool. I race under the kitchen table, where her giant head can’t get me. I have bested her today. But the war is not over. She has invaded my territory, moving in on my castle. She plays with my toys, sleeps in my bed, and, as the most egregious offense:

She. Sits. In. Mommy’s. Lap.

Or at least she tries shoving her huge ass in there. Ridiculous mutt should know that she is no lapdog. She must learn her place. And I shall teach her to behave.  After I chew on this toy under the table for a few hours.