Wiener Dog

     When it comes to the life of Riley in the animal kingdom, few pets can rival our dachshund, Rigby. Dachshund, in German literally means badger dog. They were bred to go into holes after badgers and other burrowing animals. I believe that badgers can be ferocious, but these dogs were up to the task. They're ears are purposely long to keep out the dirt, leaves and grass that would enter otherwise and they have large paws for digging. The long snout helps to sniff out prey and they're large chest gives them a capacity to keep at the task at hand without getting winded.I read that the tail was bred to be curved so that they could be pulled out by it in case they got stuck in a hole. Apparently they're known for being stubborn, a fact that I can attest to.  Author E.B. White who owned a dachshund wrote, " whenever I address Fred I never have to raise my voice or my hopes. He even disobeys me when I instruct him in something he wants to do." He sure hit the nail on the head there. About the only way I can get Rigby to do what I want him to, when he is engaged in doing what he wants, is to entice him with the promise of food, and even then he takes his time, making sure that I know that he's only obeying because there is something in it for him. I guess I could just pick him up and force him into obedience. I am, after all, much bigger, but hope springs eternal, and I keep thinking that some day he will willingly comply with my commands. Actually, I think that the tables are turned. I usually comply with his wishes. With a little whining or crying he can make me take  him outside where he will strain against his leash until I follow him to wherever he wants to go.While he never voices an opinion one way or another, I guess he just assumes we'll grab a bag and clean up after him. It's kind of like having a servant follow you around to flush the toilet when you're finished.With a few loud barks he will let me know that he wants some of the salad I'm making or a few pieces of the banana that I'm having for breakfast. When we purchased the new couch, Jan and I agreed that the dog, or perhaps I should say the king, wouldn't be allowed on it. That lasted for about fifteen minutes. That's how long it took for him to sniff it and decide it would be a satisfactory place in which to look out at his kingdom and let passers by know that he didn't appreciate the interruption of having them walking by on the street. As you can see, he's become quite enamored with the couch and matching pillows. It's a resting spot fit for a king. I see the king has left his throne and is presently in bothering me with an annoying sound, much like a cross between a groan and a whine. It's not time for his noon snack, and he's already had his cereal and milk- Multi-grain Cheerios with 2% milk, so he must want to go out. Guess I better stop what I'm doing and obey the master or there will be no rest for me.