Posts Tagged ‘funny dachshunds’


Soon after we were married in 1980, Vicky and I purchased a dachshund puppy. “Odie” (pictured) was named after the mischievous dog in the Garfield comic strip. He was a wonderful pet and companion until he died in 1995. Since then, we’ve had two more dachshunds (three if you count my son’s dog, Marley, who is currently living with us). The following column is one of several I wrote about “Molly,” our second beloved wiener dog, who died unexpectedly a couple years ago.

© July 2002 Mark W. Mayfield

Several months ago, I wrote a heartwarming column about Molly, the most recent addition to the canine division of our family. Since then, I’ve received lots of requests from happy readers who desperately want me to write another column about our beloved miniature dachshund.

I have a message for those so-called “happy readers.” Your flattering letters and e-mail don’t fool me. Your compliments and praise mean nothing to me because I know who you really are. I know that you’re actually high-ranking members of the powerful Wiener Dog Cartel, who will use any means, including sweet talk, threats and bribery, to persuade me to promote your overpriced product. I also know that you’re responsible for sending me that digitally doctored photograph, the one that shows dozens of vicious wiener dogs attacking my wife and kids in a dark alley. And, by the way, if you think you can influence me with the suitcase full of $100 bills you left on my doorstep, you’ve got another thing coming.

Ironically, today’s column is about Molly, but it’s not the glowing, pro-dachshund column you want. Instead, it’s a hard-hitting exposé about your inferior product, so fasten your seatbelts, and prepare to watch miniature dachshund prices plummet.

Attention, shoppers! If you’re in the market for a small, oblong dog, do not buy a miniature dachshund until you read this column. (Warning for sensitive readers: If you’re offended by graphic words related to dog potty, including “tinkle,” please skip to the next paragraph.) Several months ago, I discovered that Molly has a factory defect called “submissive urination,” which is a fancy way of saying she tinkles whenever anybody touches her or says her name in an excited, high-pitched manner. When I say “tinkle,” I’m not talking about a few harmless drops of puppy pee. I’m talking about large puddles that require at least three extra-absorbent paper towels. According to experts, Molly submissively tinkles to show us that she accepts her low position in the family’s “pecking order.” It’s her way of saying, “I’m not worthy of being in your presence. I am merely an overpriced wiener dog who serves no useful purpose on this planet, but you are a magnificent human who knows how to talk and read and write and drive a car and count $100 bills. Since I don’t know how to bow or kneel, I will now tinkle all over myself to demonstrate my inferiority.”

But, like Molly’s bladder, the experts’ explanation doesn’t hold water. After all, I’ve always been very low in the “pecking order,” but I’ve never resorted to submissive urination. (However, I will admit that I had a close call in the fifth grade, after one of my spit wads missed its intended target, Freda “Four-Eyes” Phillips, and hit my ill-tempered teacher, Mr. Williams, in the middle of his forehead.) Here’s the truth about Molly’s uncontrollable tinkling: Germany’s thriving dog industry recently abandoned its work on miniature dachshunds to devote more time and money to larger, more powerful models, namely German shepherds and schnauzers. The production of miniature dachshunds is now farmed out to shady sub-contractors who increase their profits by knowingly using cheap, inferior parts, including faulty bladders. Of course, the powerful Weiner Dog Cartel will vehemently deny these charges, but I’ll bravely stand by my position until a few more heavy suitcases mysteriously appear at my home–if you get my drift.

A defective bladder isn’t Molly’s only problem. Like most other miniature dachshunds, she also suffers from an annoying condition called “little dog’s syndrome.” When she’s around our other dogs, which are quite large, she compensates for her small size by standing on her tiptoes and acting like an overbearing, loudmouthed jerk. Fortunately, the other dogs take Molly’s boorish behavior in stride and, in fact, feel sorry for her. They realize that she is nothing more than a pitifully short, wiener-shaped misfit who will never be able to look skyward without seeing the private underparts of her much taller peers.

Those are just two of the many reasons that you shouldn’t buy a miniature dachshund. I’ll share several more reasons in future columns, unless, of course, the powerful Weiner Dog Cartel leaves three suitcases full of $100 bills in my garage, next to my lawn mower.

Members of the powerful Weiner Dog Cartel can reach Mark at