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.