My Life with Dad in Pictures

It’s no secret that I have the best Mum and Dad in the world but you may not know anipals that Mum and Dad are not experienced at being owned by a dachshund. Indeed no, in fact I am not only their first ever dachshund but the only doggicles they have ever been owned by so bearing this in mind it is no wonder I am so proud of them and all the time they spend in my training classes.

So dear old Dad even though I do poke gentle fun at you in these bloggys of mine, please know I love you very much and appreciate everything you do for me.

Just for you Dad is our life together in pictures. Enjoy.

Until next time.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

Nutty 005 Nutty 014  Nutty 022 Nutty 020 Ice cream 1 Nutty 017 Nutty 029 Nutty 006 Nutty 022 Nutty 016 Nutty 002 DCIM100MEDIA DCIM100MEDIA DCIM100MEDIA Me & my Dad Nutty 011

Thanks Dad – love you – *paw bump* xxx

Training Dad

As you will know anipals, training humans takes quite a bit of time and energy if it is to be done properly.

Example: I can be sitting with Dad teaching him (once again!) the basic premise of the sooky and how to do it properly when waft in comes the smell of dinner. Now we all know that food smells of any kind signal an immediate cessation of whatever we are doing (even sookying) and muster at the feeding bowls waiting patiently until Mum dishes out. Does Dad remember this? Of course not. He carries on as if nothing has occurred and actually waits for Mum to call him before he will get up off his you-know-what and saunter towards the food. In fact sometimes Mum has to call him twice!

Now I wouldn’t want you to think Dad is particularly slow on the uptake, I would say he has the limited capacity of any other human being and he cannot be faulted for that. He does try his best to please and he never shirks training. Whatever the weather there he is, working the coat drill (on-off, on-off on – wait for it – off) and keeping an eye out when I go poo-poo in unfamiliar places.

Like most humans though, Dad does have the tendency to want to throw sticks for me to chase. Whilst this is fun the first time and maybe even the second, it does get a bit wearing after the 10th time. However Dad seems to like it so I trip off on my wee leggies to collect the pesticle stick and bring it back.

So the upshot is, whilst properly trained Dads are the most loyal and loving creatures on DOG’s planet, their monkey-mind means we must keep up the training anipals. This is why so many of we doggicles can be found whizzing through golf courses and along the beach of a breezy Sunday morning when we would rather be nestling on Mum’s lap in front of the fire.

Until next time.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

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The coat drill

A Pawblem Shared is a Pawblem Solved – Peter the Rabbit

Dear Nutty

I am a large, fluffy bunny called Peter who is constantly being bullied by my family and now Mum and Dad are getting in on the act and are bullying me too.

I try to be as good a rabbit as I can but it does no good. My family simply do not like me. My brofur and sisfur get to sleep in a nice warm hutch with cosy warm straw and I am put out into the house so M&D can watch my every move. Even on rainy days I am sent out to walk while bro and sis cuddle up together watching me and laughing.

Discrimination is everywhere Nutty: my food is different, my bed is different, I am treated differently all the time and when I try to make those little snuffly rabbitty noises M&D tell me to stop being silly.

I fear I can take no more. You are my final hope Nutty. Please tell this large fluffy bunny how to make his family love him.

Peter the Ostracised and Odd Pet

Dear POOP

I have read your pawblem very carefully and I think I can see where the issues lie. You see I do not think you are a large fluffy bunny at all – I believe you to be a small fluffy puppy. That’s right POOP you are a puppy not a bunny.

Understandably you are shaking your fluffy head in disagreement as you read these words and I can understand your scepticism. To prove I am speaking the truth I ask you in all seriousness POOP to answer these five impawtant questions as honestly as you can:

1)    Do you really enjoy cramming yourself into a small rabbitty hutch and covering yourself with scratchy straw?

2)    Do you enjoy eating horrible lettuce and raw carrots?

3)    Is your brofur and sisfur really ignoring you or is it that they cannot understand a word you say because you are speaking puppy?

4)    When M&D take you for walkies do you secretly enjoy it?

5)    Do you find life in the hutch cramped and boring?

Now POOP if you have answered these questions as truthfully as I know you can you will understand that I am right. You are a puppy POOP and as such your M&D are treating you exactly right.

Leave the rabbits to their rabbitty twitchings dear POOP and set forth with your M&D and be the very best small fluffy puppy you can be!

Until next time.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

Mum Sez

Anipals who regularly read my bloggy will know that I usually use impeccable English. You may therefore be forgiven for being innocent of the fact that dogs in general and dachshunds in particular and very bad spellers and in fact we have our own language developed in an effort to bridge the gap between human and dog talk. So far this seems to be working reasonably well (please see my Twitter account @Nutty_Boom_Boom for further examples of dachshund speak).

However since this blog is compiled of a series of Mum’s sayings I feel it is only right to set them down exactly as they came to my large floppy ears. If you find yourself struggling with the language please do persevere and it will become easier. If this is successful I may well write more bloggys in my own language thereby giving my secretary (er Mum) less translation work to do.

Here we go then:

Mum sez no peeps kan wook bootifool by waring cosmetics made from da pain and blood of anipals.

Mum sez ware doos TOAT in a koly kold weatha to stop dooselficcus detting a chill.

Mum sez always be niccicles to peeps coz doo mite be da onliest furson dey sees dat hole daze.

Mum sez be tolerant wif fings wot doo duzn’t likey (like TOATS and cats me finks) coz won daze doo mite needs deir help.

Mum sez all anipals is bornded ekwal and me finks she inkloods human beans in dis.

Mum sez doggices wespond to we’s environment an so if we is brot up bad den we behaves bad – just like children. Not dere folt – not we’s folt.

Mum sez no one wuvs me’s more than hers sept maybe’s DOG (me beweives her).

Mum sez if she has to leaf me’s at home alone it is only becoz she can’t take me wif her to a sertain place.

Mum sez she will always do her’s besticcles to involve me in evafing coz that is wot maykes me’s happy.

Mum sez me is her wee blessing.

Me sez Mum is myne.

Until next time.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

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Me and me’s Mummicles

Barking Mad

Everyone knows the canine creature is the most sensible, settled, calm and collected creature ever to walk DOG’s earth and I for one, would not be the dachshund to sway that opinion.

Now all that being said, humans are a little bit daft when it comes to being barking mad. They don’t understand the value of it you see. Now when the wheelie bin comes rolling out along our driveway of a Thursday morning any sensible person would be running alongside barking, whooping and generally guiding the bin to its designated position on the street.

Not so for humans. Every week without fail I am shushed, wheeshed and told not to bark when carrying out this important piece of work. Once Dad even went to the trouble of sneaking out the side gate to get the bin without alerting me. Fortunately my huge flappy dachshund ears pricked up and I was soon out there on patrol barking as loudly as possible to make up for any lost time.. Of course as the bin is barked out it must also be barked in – how else is it going to know where to go?

Other barking duties include leaf barking, people-you-don’t-really-like barking, doorbell barking, other-dogs-walking-past-your-house barking, barking at The Deev when she comes to visit, barking at The Deev when she leaves and of course it goes without saying we dogs have our regular barkees such as postmen, milkmen, delivery people in general as well as neighbours and the neighbour’s cat.

So with all these duties to cram in on a daily basis it is no wonder we get a little pee(ved) when our humans, with singular lack of understanding which has to be barked to be believed, fail to grasp the importance of barking, our primary responsibility.

So it is thus anipals that we dogs have been endowed by DOG the Creator with such steadfastness and loyalty (as well as understanding for those creatures less intelligent than ourselves) that we continue to carry out our barking duties even when obstructed from doing so.

My advice is to keep training your humans and one day they will grasp in paw the importance our dogly duties. In the meantime anipals, bark on…

Until next time.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

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Making sure Dad doesn’t try to sneak Blue Wheelie out without me!

No Exit

Dear anipals – the following story was written by my human Papa (in Scotland papa is grandfather) who passed OTRB long before I was born but has had such an influence on the lives of his family and my Mum (his daughter) especially that I understand he is an important part of my doggy life too.

Papa dabbled in short story writing when he was a young man and this is one of the two stories which have survived him.  Papa’s first story, The Killer, was published on my blog a few days ago. We hope you enjoyed it and will read No Exit in honour of my lovely Papa. Mum says Papa wrote this story with his own Dad (my Mum’s Papa) in mind as in his younger days he earned his living as a prizefighter.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

No Exit

He came out of his corner knowing he could beat this man easily.  He had fought many fights, both in and out of the ring, he had the quiet confidence that comes with experience and knew he could put his opponent away in the first, and this kid who faced him with a confident smirk knew this too.  But he also knew something else – that he dare not.

It was the old story of a fairly good professional boxer just past the right age for the ring and now just had the breaks to get to the top.

Oh he was good enough to give the fans their money’ worth or to change the other fellow’s opinion in a bar brawl but just not championship material, and he knew it.  He also knew he hadn’t many more fights left in the ring, it just took a couple of more shows like that one last month when he had to throw in the towel because he couldn’t land his knockout punch and his legs couldn’t go the distance.  That was always the first sign when a boxer couldn’t go the distance.

He carried the kid through the first round wiping the smirk off his face by a few good solids to the mouth just to keep the fans happy and to show the kid he could put him away anytime he liked.

At the end of the third round his manager leaned over the ropes and said ‘What the hell are you playing at?  Look at that fellow’s face.’  He looked.  It was badly battered from his continuous jabs to the nose and mouth and one of his eyes had started to close.  ‘What are you playing at?’ he repeated.

‘He’s too damned cocky,’ said Malloy ‘anyway I’m not supposed to go down until the sixth and I got to make it look good so mind your own business.’

‘Don’t get smart with me brother,’ the manager sad ‘if you don’t’ dive my neck is out too and I like my face the way it is and not the way it will be if you slug this bum by mistake.  You know as well as I do that the Syndicate don’t take excuses.’

The bell went for the fourth and he danced out to meet his now wary opponent who was no longer smirking.  Jim, his manager, was right of course thought Malloy.  The Syndicate, the biggest bookmaking racket in town, had spread plenty on this kid to win and they were paying him more than he earned in five fights to dive to this kid.  He knew what would happen to him if he won, accident or otherwise, but he just didn’t like this blue-eyed boy to be so sure about it.

What was he being so high and mighty about?  He’d dive in the sixth as arranged and maybe even do a couple more fights for them if the money was good then he would quit the racket for good; he’d never make champ now anyway.

The kid came out fast in the sixth and he made out he was handing out a lot of punishment although the older man took most of it on his arms and gloves, but he got careless and the kid saw a chance and belted him way down low in his belly.  He dropped to his knees.  This was no dive, this was for real.  The kid had hurt him but it was a foul blow.  In the front of the mist of pain there was the red mist of anger.  It was bad enough to take a dive to this green punk but for the kid to think he could actually put him away foul or no, this was too much.

He rose and tore into the kid, battering him all over the ring.  He loved it, the crowd loved it, this was a flash of the old Mike Malloy.  Right to the body, right to the mouth then that wicked left hook to the already cut eye.  The kid staggered across the ring with no idea where the punches were coming from.  Mallow was in to win again, not just to be a stepping stone to this man’s way to the top.

The kid was down.  4 – 5 – 6 – he looked over at his own corner and saw his manager’s ashen face, then he remembered – 8 – 9 – the kid was groggy but he was rising.  How stupid can you get?  Now Malloy had to get a man who was out on his feet to put him down for the count before the bell and he reckoned the round was about halfway through by now.  He went into a clinch ‘that was just to show you how it’s done kid,’ he said ‘now make it look good and put me away.’  The battered lips opened and the one good eye glared at him hatefully.  ‘I’ll put you away all right Malloy don’t you worry about that,’ the kid snarled.

The referee broke the clinch and Mike swung a lazy right that wouldn’t have knocked out a fly, just for show and then he watched in stupefaction as the kid grinned at him, keeled over and lay quite still.

Mallow stared at the kid and felt the sweat break out cold all over his body.  The kid was shamming, anyone could see that.  3 – 4- -5 – he ran over to the referee and frantically tried to appeal to him but the ref either couldn’t hear him for the cheers and howls from the delighted fans or he didn’t want to hear.  Of course, Mike thought that’s it, he was in on it too and now he is as scared as I am.  Mike backed away in horror 8 – 9 – 10 out!

They dragged the kid out of the ring and Mallow went back to his now empty corner.  No manager, no seconds, nothing.  But if he hurried he could het changed and out while there were still plenty of people pushing through the exits, but quick as he was the stadium was quite deserted when he came back through and headed for one of the three exits.  Only the ring lights were left on, the rest of the stadium was in darkness and out of the shadows a man stepped up to block his way to the exit and something flashed in his hand.  Mallow backed away glancing at the second exit, only to see exactly the same thing.  He ran back to the centre of the stadium and round the outside of the ring till he could see the third and last exit and his heart sank as he saw yet another man walking down the aisle towards him.

He did the only thing that was left for him to do.  He jumped into the ring and felt naked beneath the big arc lights.  His clothes were soaked with sweat and the fear was a solid thing building up inside him.  As he peered into the surrounding gloom screaming and shouting ‘Come on then and get me.  I’ll show you how it feels to get in the ring and face Big Mike Malloy.  Come on.  Come on.’  His hysterical voice echoes in the empty darkness but his only reply was the pad-pad-pad of soft soled shoes coming nearer and nearer.

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In Loving Memory and of Happiness Never Forgotten

Alexander McCallum (1934 – 2011)

The Killer

 Dear anipals – the following story was written by my human Papa (in Scotland papa is grandfather) who passed OTRB long before I was born but has had such an influence on the lives of his family and my Mum (his daughter) especially that I understand he is an important part of my doggy life too.

Papa dabbled in short story writing when he was a young man and this is one of the two stories which have survived him. We hope you enjoy it.

Love & leggies, Nutty x

The Killer

They were coming for him.  I could hear their heavy hob-nailed boots crunching on the gravel drive that leads up to the farm.  Yes they were coming and although they hadn’t said so, I knew they were going to kill him.  Going to kill Joe, my friend, and I couldn’t stop them…

Oh yes I had tried, tried to reason, to plead, to threaten the men who were coming for him but they just shook their heads at me and pushed me firmly aside.  ‘We don’t want to hurt you Johnny,’ they said ‘but we’ll have to if you don’t turn him in.’  But even in the face of their threats, I still wouldn’t give Joe away because I felt sure  he would never have given me away if the position had been reversed.

‘Don’t you understand Johnny,’ they said ‘he’s a killer and we know his kind will go on killing and killing.  We know this because we have experienced it before and we will find him, no matter where he is hiding.  We must find him, and find him soon before he kills again.’  They stalked angrily away but confidently sure they would find him without my help.  With them it was just a matter of time.

I first met Joe 3 years ago on a cold winter night.  He was hungry and alone, staggering with exhaustion up the path to the barn where he could at least sleep warm in the straw.  We took him in and fed him.  We looked after him and in a few weeks his strength returned to him, his chest filled out and his face grew more rounded instead of the gaunt, hungry look it once had.  He was powerful was Joe, and he certainly repaid us by the way he worked on the farm.  He didn’t want wages, just his food and his keep and he was happy.  We thought he would just stay for a little while to show his gratitude to us but he stayed for 3 years and in that time had become one of the family and now they were coming for him…

I could hear them turn away from the house and come towards the barn where we were hiding.  It hadn’t taken them long to find him or maybe they had seen me come into the barn – oh what a fool I’d been to come here.  Me who had been too loyal to my friend to give him away and done just that by coming here.  But I had to bring him food so what else can I do?  But it was too late to do anything now.  I had failed him as I am sure he would never have failed me.  As I looked towards him and signed for him to be quiet I whispered ‘Sorry Joe’ but he never uttered a sound.  I saw the big barn doors open and the two big men came in, bigger than me or Joe and they had rifles in their hands.  It took all my willpower not to cry out.

‘Johnny,’ the taller of the two shouted.  I signaled to Joe and we both lay quiet in the straw.  ‘Come on Johnny.  We know you’re in there.’  There was a pause then he said ‘We want to tell you we are sorry.’  I looked down from the top of the bales I was lying on.  ‘Do you really mean that Abe?’ I called ‘you’re not going to shoot Joe now?’

‘No.  We’re not going to shoot him now or ever,’ bit Abe said jerking his thumb at the other man with him ‘Bill caught the killer in the act.  Got him right between the eyes with old Betsy here and that was that.  We just stopped in to say we’re sorry before we head into the village to tell the folks to call off the search.  We saw you come in here with a sack of grub so while we are away get Joe out of that straw up there and both of you bring the sheep from the west meadow into the pens for shearing.  A man can’t do it alone, not without a sheepdog like Joe, especially a little man like you who is only 10 years old eh?’

They laughed as they walked away, the crunching of their boots on gravel faded away.  I felt very happy, not only was Joe safe but I could boast to my friends in the village that one of my big brothers shot the sheep killer.

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In Loving Memory and of Love Never Forgotten

Alexander McCallum (1934 – 2011)

Nutty 2

If you remember the story My Mummy Knitted Me you will understand how worried I was when Mum decided to knit a dachshund. Although Mum did explain it was as a REMINDER for her desk not as a REPLACEMENT ‘Who could replace you Nutty’ she said and I tended to believe her because as you know anipals Mum’s never tell lies and as my Mum is the greatest Mum ever I knew she was telling the truth.

Even so I would sneak looks at this knitted trespasser as he was on Mum’s clacketty needles… Now me, it took a long time for me to grow to my full size of 14 inches long but this guy – well he was growing so fast I seriously began to wonder if our house was big enough for him and for me.

Dachshunds can be tricky creatures though and if anyone is looking for a pawsome way to get sookying whilst Mum is busy doing something else then stealth is key. I learned to sneak up on Mum’s lap like a wee furry ninja; slowly, slowly without her knowing and the needles clacking away and the knitted dachshund getting bigger by the minute… until one short leap and I was there… on Mum’s knee all sookyed in and with a ball of wool to play with as an added bonus.

Word of warning here anipals, if you do try this manoeuvre remember never to unravel the wool because this will instantly displease Mum and you will find yourself consigned to the floor (this happened to me – several times). Simply curl up on the lap and hold the wool (loosely) between the paws and you will find Mum clacks on and you get secret sookys with the additional benefit of keeping an eye on the rival.

‘Nutty 1 meet Nutty 2,’ Mum said when the multi-coloured interloper was finally finished and I got to sniff him and let him know there is only one alpha dachshund in this house – and it’s definitely not him. Still Nutty 2 did not seem to mind and he just sat there letting me have a good old sniff at his bum and his ears without a word of complaint.

Mum was so pleased by his behaviour that she look a picture of us both and I have to say Nutty 2 is not too shabby. He is Mum’s first attempt at knitting so she is very proud – although I have gently suggested she try knitting a jumper for Dad next time.

Till next time,

Love & Leggies, Nutty x

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Nutty 1 meets Nutty 2

Poo Training Dad in Cumbria

As you will know anipals, training any human is an ongoing process and just when you think they have grasped what you want them to do – they forget and you are straight back to basics.

This is especially true when you take your human to a new environment – previous training goes out the kennel window and you have to take them by paw all over again. Luckily we dachshunds are patient creatures…

So anyway we arrived at Nateby, the small village in Cumbria where we were staying and first things first I had to go for a walk so I could leave some pee-emails around the place as polite messages for the local canine population – as you do.

So there we are walking around and because Dad was slightly skittish after the long drive I thought it best to put him on the lead first.

We are walking along quite happily when suddenly I get taken short (did I mention it was a long drive?) and so I hunched over to poo (a sure sign to Dad to STOP) but did he? No! The man trundled on with me trying to squat – hunch – poo behind him. Talk about not paying attention!

Luckily Mum was bringing up the rear and she spotted the problem and called out the STOP command to Dad. Phew! What a relief. This tail serves as a timely reminder to all pals that the training never stops. Even the best trained human will become distracted when in a new environment so anipals be ever vigilant for straying humans. Keep them on a short leash until they familiarise themselves with their new surroundings and never ever allow them to run off by themselves as, with their poor sense of smell, hearing and direction, there is every chance they will never find their way back.

Till next time,

Love & Leggies, Nutty x

DCIM100MEDIA POO DAD – I NEED TO POO!