I love dirty clothes. Is there any greater joy than rolling around in a big filthy pile of shirts and underwear until the smell covers you? I don’t think so! I don’t know why they keep leaving all those great scents out, but hopefully Trudy and Olivia appreciate that I’m returning the favor by leaving my own special perfume on their stuff, too.
“Oliver, what are you doing now?” Olivia giggles as she catches me in her room, a stray pair of underwear hanging from my head like a crown. “You are so silly!”
I wag my tail at her, and she comes over to pet me. Ah, affection is so easy when you are cute. A tilt of the head, a lick on the nose, and the cuddling is all mine for the taking! But then again, we dachshunds are adorable with our long bodies and floppy ears. I, of course, am the most wonderful of them all.
“What a cutie!” Olivia scratches my ears and removes the underwear from my head. “I better clean up in here before Mommy sees this and then put you back where you belong!”
I watch her stuff all the dirty clothes I worked so hard to remove back into the basket. As she does so, she sings a strange little song about everybody cleaning up everywhere. It makes no sense to me. Cleaning is for old people and cats. Making messes, exploring the great unknowns of the house—that’s the life for me!
I zip out of Olivia’s room when she’s not looking and begin an exploration of the next room. I love all the independence I’m experiencing now that my brother and sisters were adopted. Don’t misunderstand me. I miss those rascals, but I’ve always been a pup with an independent sort of nature. Loneliness is not a part of my genetic makeup.
Well, that may not be entirely true.
Whenever Olivia leaves the house to play, I can’t help but whine at the door. I mean, where is she going? When will she be back? Why can’t I go play with her? Who is she with? Is it another dog? Does she love this dog better than me? Most of the time when Olivia is gone I just sit at the front door with my head down until she comes home. A few times Olivia’s mother, Trudy, has comforted me, saying something about how hard separation anxiety can be.
Separation anxiety? I don’t know what that is. I just miss Olivia and will pine until she comes home. Once she’s back, I’m fine.
At least she’s home now and preoccupied in her room. That allows me time to explore this intriguing new location. I’ve often seen Trudy and Olivia disappear in here. They shut the door and then come out a few minutes later. The sound of rushing water as they exit makes me curious.
Someone had very obligingly left the light on in this little room. There is a tall thing that I recognize as a sink, and a funny chair with a hole in its center. A little further over is a bigger sink that looks large enough for a person to lie in. I sniff around the base of the sink and make my way to the chair thingy. Interesting smells. Very interesting.
Wait a second. This is the bathroom, and the chair is called a toilet. I’ve heard Olivia call it that.
I look next to the toilet and see something round and white hanging on the wall. I sniff and then rise up, catching a bit of it in my teeth. Yanking it down, my senses tell me that it’s some sort of soft paper. It tastes alright, but what I really like is how it unrolls, leaving a nice trail on the ground. If I pull harder, more of it comes down, but sadly when I tug too hard, it breaks apart from the roll.
No matter. For a few minutes, the pieces I have torn apart and am rolling in are enough to keep me happy. What a neat thing this white stuff is! It tears, smells good, is soft, and easy to rip into a thousand pieces. But I always think, why would you want a thousand pieces when you can have a million?
However, after a bit, the pieces become too small to play with. Time to get more! Woohoo! I leap up, grab the edge of the paper, and pull. This time I decide to see just how far I can get the paper to stretch. I pull it out of the room and into the living room. Wow! It’s really long! I keep tugging at it, careful not to rip it as I dart around the room leaving a beautiful trail behind me.
“What is going on in here?” Trudy is in the doorway, her mouth opened in surprise. She’s so impressed with my skills that her face is turning red. “Oliver! Stop!”
I stop. Her voice is not happy. I have learned from past experience that the unhappy voice means I’m in trouble.
For a minute, she can’t seem to get any words to come out of her mouth. Trudy looks around the room, and I tilt my head to the side, watching. Maybe she’s never played with this paper stuff before. If that’s the case, she is missing out on the fun.
“Olivia!” Trudy calls. “Did you leave the kiddie gate open in the kitchen?”
I already know the answer to that one. No. Why would I need her to do that when I’m clever enough to figure out how to open it?
“No, Mommy!” Olivia says, coming into the room. Her mouth drops open at the sight of the living room. “Why is there toilet paper everywhere?”
“That’s a good question. Are you sure you didn’t leave the gate open?” Trudy asks.
“I’m sure.”
“Well, somehow Oliver got out and managed to redecorate the house with the toilet paper.”
I wag my tale and think, You’re welcome. The living room was a little drab to begin with.
“This is not good, Olivia.” Trudy picks up some of the toilet paper. “I think we might need to consider getting some beginning training for Oliver.”
She scoops me up and carries me back to the kitchen. At the sight of the mangled gate which I chewed on to make my escape, she sighs.
“Stay, Oliver,” she says and puts me down.
My mother, Schatze, raises her head from the dog bed that lies where our box used to. “What did you do now, Oliver?”
“I just went exploring,” I said. “Did a little redecorating with toilet paper. No biggie.”
“One of these days, Oliver, you are going to learn why it’s important to behave!” Momma laid her head back down and closed her eyes.
Personally, I was too excited from all the activity to lie down and nap. Instead, I stood at the reconstructed gate and whine. I’m getting really good at crafting different whines for different occasions. Its a little experiment I’m trying called “Owner Training.” Trudy and Olivia are obviously smart creatures. They should be able to pick out my various whines in no time, decipher their meanings, and pamper me whenever the occasion calls for it.
I start with a low frequency whine. It’s sort of like whining under your breath and is just low enough to be heard, yet loud enough to be annoying. This tactic usually gets Olivia’s attention.
Hmmm….nothing. No Olivia. Maybe she’s busy. Okay, next whine.
This one I call the Moan and Yip. It starts off low frequency style, and then I add a yip in every now and then.
Still nothing.
They’re playing hardball today. Fine. I’ll just bust out the new whine I’m working on. I call it: The Howl.
I sit back on my haunch and pucker up for a long soulful howl. I admit it may not have the robust quality of some dogs, but I am only 11 weeks old.
Sure enough, both Trudy and Olivia come running. They stop at the gate and stare down at me. I give them one more howl for good measure and then wag my tail.
“What’s wrong with him, Mommy?”
“Nothing, Olivia. He just wants attention.”
“Should we pick him up?”
“No, he’s in time out right now for all the toilet paper in the living room.” Trudy crosses her arms and says directly to me, “Nope. It’s not gonna work, buddy. You may look super cute with that ferocious howl, but you aren’t getting past this gate.”
She and Olivia march away, leaving me to pout. On a bright spot, Trudy did say my howl was ferocious. That’s something.
And as for not getting past the gate…well, we’ll see about that. I grab Mr. Fluffy Wuffy and play “chew the panda”, as I plot out my next escape strategy. Nothing can hold this ferocious dachshund forever.
Tomorrow is another day!
*****
(…to be continued)
Related posts:
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Finds a Place to Sleep
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Protects His Family
- Puppy Tails – Oliver the Supermodel
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Gets Motion Sickness
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Gets Fleas
