Miniature Dachshunds: The most evil of all dogs!

Miniature Dachshund

‘THEY may be tiny but they’ll have you!’ Survey confirms miniature sausages are the most dangerous dog breed.

A major survey, of all dog owners in Much Craplock, has demonstrated that miniature sausage dogs are the most feared.

“They’re all natural born killers!” complained local police officer, PC Fanny Fuzz. “If you think I am coming around in response to a triggered burglar alarm, when you’ve got one of those little monsters on the premises, you’ve got another think coming!”

“My risk assessment says not to go near any garden ponds or climb over low trellises, to avoid cats with bad attitudes and, especially, to avoid all miniature dogs. The frothing little swines hate everyone in uniform:  police officers, postmen, lollipop ladies. Uniforms send them apoplectic with rage.”

Dr Sally Doolally, from the League of Psychologists, confirmed this viewpoint. “They really are nasty little sods, particularly my little brown one, Daphne.”

“Yes, Daphne the frigging miniature dachshund. I am not swearing when I say that. When she wasn’t sleeping or lying in wait, ready to ambush the postman, she was always humping my husband’s leg, up until he left – and she’s a girl ! Even I don’t know the mental process behind that and I am a psychologist!”

“I only got a dog when my husband announced he wanted to keep tropical fish tanks in our shed. The last thing any woman wants is for their partner to set up a little hobby area of his own. A place where he could potentially relax, a place where he could have fun, a place he might waste our money, a place he could call his own – the very thought filled me with rage. I can’t see into the shed from the kitchen. How was I to know he wasn’t displaying a contented smile that I wanted to wipe off his stupid face?”

“To counteract any risk of his happiness, I rushed out to buy a £900 puppy with all our savings and informed him we were going to spend ‘quality time together’ walking the dog. Our walks together were meant to be like cheap date nights, only in perennial mud, damp and drizzle, while romantically clutching steaming little bags of deposits. We soon discovered that we hated walking, we hated each other, we hated the great outdoors and we particularly hate dogs.”

“I should have bought a more practical breed that doesn’t randomly flip from being terrified of all dogs to wanting to take them all down. When I was a little girl we had a Cavalier spaniel and that was no hassle apart from all the tumbleweeds of cast-off hair cartwheeling around the house and her frequent flatulence. I only chose a dachshund to take the mickey out of my husband. You know how people often say that people look like their dogs – well I stretched this analogy and published an academic paper to propose that people’s dogs usually resemble one of their body parts. That’s why I bought him a miniature sausage!”

“The trouble is that these little brutes last for ever: 14 to 17 years ! You’d get a shorter sentence for murdering people. Giant breeds like Great Danes only last 6-8 years but they aren’t so easy to cram into a wheelie bin.”

“When you realise you are lumbered for a virtual whole life sentence, you do have to try to find some enjoyment from a pet. When you are anticipating them, her miniature, ineffective bouts of fury are hilarious. For 20 hours a day, she ‘sleeps’ under a tiny duvet in the kitchen but she is always on guard, waiting, listening for delivery men, lurking like a bogey in the weeds. She constantly sniffs the air to sense when we open the fridge.”

“She particularly hates the courier guy. When the doorbell rings she charges to the front door but sometimes fails to extricate herself from underneath her duvet and so the whole thing, with her stuck underneath it, levitates and hurtles towards the door like a hovercraft, powered by tiny scrabbling legs. She usually clangs into her food and water bowls before crashing blindly into the kitchen door – if I have managed to shut it quietly, in anticipation of the fun.  If I could silently dig a pit along her habitual route to the front door, without her noticing, that would be hilarious. Even so, the crash of her hovering dog-powered duvet careering into the kitchen door makes me soak my Tena Ladies every time.”

“Bless them, dachshunds do have a few good points. As they’re virtually bald on their bellies they give off a significant amount of heat when stoked up with prodigious quantities of chicken. This is great when you can’t afford to heat the house. They also refuse to go outside if it’s cold, wet, snowy, windy, foggy, muggy, if there’s low atmospheric pressure, or looks like it is going to drizzle anytime soon – so that’s time saved on walkies most days. If the weather changes while they’re out, they freeze like the ‘mannequin challenge’ unless bribed with handfuls of biscuits or simply picked up.”

“They are notoriously difficult to house-train and some refuse ever to learn. The only way to get them to do anything is bribery with titbits. They may be tiny but they can still habitually prop themselves up enough to pre-wash all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.”

“You might think a pathetic little Toy Story dog like Daphne is cheap to run. How many biscuits can she eat ? But it’s the vet’s bills that are staggering. Everyone knows that dachshunds can have back problems and end up with their hind legs propped up on little wheeled trolleys but my dog is literally allergic to everything.”

“Her blood tests show she is allergic to hay, pollen, dust, pine needles, dog food, sunlight, water, fresh air and grass? Really I should put her in a buggy and push her around the block sealed in a plastic bubble. All these ‘allergens’ allegedly make her feet swell up. Her front ones are freakishly large anyway as she has been genetically modified to tunnel into badgers’ setts and kill them all.”

“You have got to admit that a tiny dog feisty enough to attack a family of badgers underground has got to have some balls. That’s probably where this humping thing comes from.”

“After every walk Daphne has to have her feet soaked in a warm bath, containing dissolved Epsom salts, while having dog treats continuously popped into her mouth to dissuade her from vaulting out. Then I have to rub, apparently irresistibly delicious, steroid cream into each of her individual toes. The vet has applied for a special government licence so a research lab can manufacture her own personalised vaccine. People queue in A&E for over four hours and we have homeless people littering the streets but we can’t possibly have a miniature dog with poor sore paws can we? We’re not barbarians.”

“We don’t have a vaccine for the Zika virus yet, because all the available scientists are making a vaccine for a tiny dog that’s allergic to grass. Thank goodness for  extortionate pet insurance which strangely seems to require a new yearly excess to be paid no matter how recently you previously used it.”

“To tell you the truth, I am more of a ‘dog is for Christmas, rather than for life’ kind of girl. You can’t really admit to that these days, you will be branded a social pariah and cast out from modern society. It’s more socially acceptable to suggest that Gary Glitter should sing ‘Thank Heaven for Little Girls’ on his comeback tour.”

“I am fighting my estranged husband for custody of Daphne. He can bloody well have her! I have served my time.”

“Got to go. I think the sun’s out – time for walkies!”

Photograph by a Daily Squabble photographer immediately before he was humped and savaged – or was it savaged and then humped?
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About The Daily Squabble

Satirical comedy newspaper edited by 'Mallet' Mike. Documenting the lives and opinions of the fictional villagers of Much Craplock.

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