Dachsology

I walked into my parents’ house the other night, and, like every other time I walk through the door, my mom’s Chihuahua began simultaneously growling and trembling.

Bambi weighs 11 ½ pounds.  She’s an obese Chihuahua with a stripper name, and she’s also highly conflicted.  Bambi loves me because I am, after all, the one who plucked her from a shelter and set her into the loving arms of my mother, whom she adores.  But she also despises me because I often have Pancho, my three-legged Australian shepherd, with me, and she hates Pancho.

On this particular night, Pancho wasn’t with me.  And when Bambi started to growl, my mother got in her face and yelled, “BAH!”

The dog immediately stopped growling.  Then she retreated to her blanket.  And any time she stood up, my mom looked over, repeated the word “Bah,” and the dog instantly lay back down.  It was a miracle.

I went home and Googled “BAH!”  Apparently, it’s part of the BarkBuster dog training program, a way to establish yourself as the Alpha dog and command obedience from your dog.

I looked for a YouTube video, but when my dachshunds, Laverne and Shirley, heard other dogs, they began barking.

I decided to go for it.  “BAH!”  Shocked, they stopped barking.  Then they started again.

“BAH!”

This time, they were not impressed. Also, I’d disturbed their rest, so Shirley jumped off her perch atop the back of my sofa.  She began to wander around looking for a spot to pee, even though she’d been outside just ten minutes earlier.

“BAH!” I yelled as she squatted on my rug.  She looked me in the eye and proceeded to pee.

“BAH!  BAH! BAH!”  I continued yelling as I scooped her up and put her outside.  Then she watched through the glass on the door as I blotted the mess with a paper towel and then poured salt on it to soak up what remained.

I’ve never been able to housetrain a dachshund.  It’s not because they’re dumb.  It’s because they don’t care to go to the potty outside.  In the house is easier.  The house is warmer and drier, and there’s no grass to tickle their ass.

Call me lazy, but I decided it’s just easier to replace a rug once a year than try to train a dachshund.  And I defy anyone to convince me otherwise.  In my lifetime, I’ve had about fifteen dachshunds as pets, and to date, I’m 0-15 when it comes to training a dachshund not to pee in the house.

To “Bah” I say “Humbug.”  It’s aversion therapy, and it just doesn’t work on dachshunds.

On the other hand, I can bribe dachshunds to do just about anything short of standing on their heads by offering them fried eggs.  I just don’t have the time to fry an egg every time they need to pee.

Today is Sunday, and in honor of the Lord’s Day, I offer my version of the Doxology, written for Laverne and Shirley:

Praise eggs, from which all blessings flow

Praise omelets, all creatures here below

Praise cheese scrambles, ye heavenly host

And serve them with a side of toast.

Translate this post