She’s now 14 weeks old, and at our last vet visit she was five whole pounds of dachshund fury. And teeth. Don’t forget the extra sharp puppy teeth that puncture human skin like Wolverine slashes through supervillains.
We had seriously forgotten how much work a puppy is. She is so energetic! But the funniest thing is that she’s acting like a dog. Seriously. How strange is that? Oscar would be so amused at the sight of us dealing with a dog.
She’s learned to play fetch. And she’ll bring you the toy over and over and over and over and over… well, you get the idea. Favorite toy at this point is Mr. Ram, the blue and yellow fellow you can see in the background of the picture. She’ll play tug of war. She has learned where the treats are stored and if she hears the mere hint of a bag crinkling (even if it’s for human treats) she’ll drop whatever she’s doing and park her little rear by the treat box with that ever hopeful look on her face and the slight head tilt so as to maximize her cuteness. I tell you, the cuteness is a survival instinct.
She’s also learning rudimentary obedience skills. For example, “sit” is short for “if I drop my butt here now, a tasty morsel will fall my way.” She knows her name and chooses to answer if it suits her, which is normal for any dachshund no matter the age. Housetraining? Eh. Not so much. But we now have new machine washable throw rugs.
The kicker was last night when we took her in the back yard. She’d previously been out there, clad in collar and harness, and she hated it. She’d sit like a lump and occasionally gnaw on a blade of grass but she’d make no effort to move. But last night we decided to take her down there nekkid as a jaybird since the back yard is fenced in. That did it: she frolicked; she cavorted; she ran; she leaped; she sniffed; and so help me, she laid down on the ground and rolled in the grass.
Oscar would have been mortified at the behavior.
That’s when we realized that we have an actual dog this time. We have no clue how to deal with it.