Sometimes a dachshund is just so engrossed in his busy workiness he might have things lying around. Take yesterday for example, I was clearing out the Squeak Box which was, I have to admit, slightly less than pawstine, so I decided the best thing to do would be to give each squeak a personal makeover and grooming.
Having decided this to be the best course of action I ask you anipals how would you do it? Why of course! You would tip all the squeaks out and proceed to clean their box with the tongue. A few lickety-licks with an overlong daxie tongue and the job was done.
Deciding Snake Squeak was in most urgent need of my attention I selected him from the box and carried him through to the living room and on to Mum’s new rug which is always nice and cosy warm. Oh-oh but what was that noise? I knew immediately it was Yellow Squeak (he can be a very jealous squeak at times) crying and whining for attention. Well my wee daxie heart melted right away and I bolted off to rescue Yellow and placed him carefully on his favourite spot which is halfway up the stairs. Of course this perceived favouritism sent Blue and Pink Squeaks into paroxysms of jealous rage so I had to bring them out too. Blue wanted to sit alongside Yellow on the stairs and independent Pink preferred to station himself right behind the front door.
Ginger Squeak wandered through on his own looking so lost and lonely that I picked him up gently in my mouth and trotted with him to his favourite place which is (strangely enough) in Dad’s right slipper. One by one I moved the squeaks away from the box and laid them in a straight line across the kitchen floor thinking this would give them a different view of things.
If you have squeaks yourself you will know how terribly possessive they can be. Mum says we daxies are a jealous breed and I have never been sure what that means. All my squeaks are well practiced in the sooky in all its forms so I have no real reason to complain.
Peace reigned in the house and I worked away quite happily grooming my squeaks. I was in the process of returning them to their box when in trundled Dad home from work. Without so much as a by-your-leave the man flings open the front door and steps right onto Pink who was, as you should remember, minding his own business parked behind the door. Quite understandably Pink let out a rebel yell at the untimely intrusion and I am pretty certain Dad wanted to say a bad word at that point but he held himself in. However his great twiggy legs splayed open and he lost his footing which propelled him with comedic speed into the living room and onto the unsuspecting Snake. ‘Hissssssssss,’ said Snake indignantly as Dad removed his great feet from Snake’s delicate head.
‘Nutty!’ Dad cried and I was on hand immediately. ‘What have you done Dad?’ I barked ‘can you not see the squeaks? You are hurting them.’
Dad, as usual, appeared completely clueless so I barked again. ‘If you are going upstairs Blue and Yellow are sitting on the middle stair.’ Too late. Up he trundled taking the stairs three at a time as is his wont, tripping over Blue, narrowly avoiding Yellow and falling into a snotty heap on the top landing.
Mum came out of the bedroom shaking her head. I knew what she was thinking so I shook mine too. ‘Don’t be coming up here with your boots on,’ she said to Dad crossly so Dad went back downstairs to find his slippers. ‘That &^S%^* dog has toys everywhere,’ he was muttering. I didn’t understand what he meant by that so I let it go. Too late I remembered Ginger was nestled inside Dad’s right slipper. Dad, to give him his due, neatly sidestepped both Blue and Yellow on his way downstairs. ‘Nutty get these toys tidied up will you?’ he said. Once again understanding did not dawn so I looked seriously at him so he would know his nonsensical words did not translate into dachshund-speak.
‘Dad! Ginger Squeak is inside your slipper,’ I barked as I bounded downstairs behind him but I was way too late. Dad had already thrust his foot into his slipper right on top of Ginger’s tiny head. ‘AAARGH!’ Dad cried ‘what the –‘
‘It’s Ginger Dad,’ I barked frantically ‘he likes it in there.’ Privately I thought Dad’s slippers were just a little too minging to be a really good favourite place but each to their own and the smell problem probably wasn’t an issue for Ginger who’d had his nose chewed off long ago.
Dad started bouncing up and down holding his foot in his hand. I thought this looked like an excellent game so I started bouncing too. I tossed all the squeaks into the air with my rather large sneb so that they could enjoy the fun too.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!’ Dad cried again and because he seemed to be enjoying himself so much I bounced higher and higher until I accidently landed on his uninjured foot. ‘OOOOOOOOOOW!’ Dad yelled hopping around like a demented frog trying to hold both feet which, as any scientist will tell you, is an impossibility given the force of gravity. Dad’s joy was infectious though so I began to bark-sing loudly and before long all the squeaks joined in.
When Mum came downstairs she had her seriously frowny face on and glared at us all as if we were mad. Mums!
Till next time. Love & leggies, Nutty x
Me tidying the Squeak Box.