My Dastardly Dachshund

**Disclaimer For those of you with slightly weak stomachs or who have recently eaten this is an advanced warning that this post contains a lot of items pertaining to poo, poo eating and general poop sandwiches. If you find the idea of this disgusting or are easily offended, I strongly recommend that you read no further and don’t buy a dachshund…**

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For the rest of you please let me introduce Flick my beautiful smooth haired mini daxie, look at that face…. Butter wouldn’t melt right? WRONG. This dog was sent from Poo City in the land of Eatanykindashit to terrorise me at Pudding HQ. Flick has always had the tendency to be a garbage disposal unit, she is the only dog I know who can scale a dining table and at only 8 inches tall that’s pretty impressive, but its not her food stealing that really gets to me its the non-food substances. There is nothing worse than having a dog who consistently eats poo – she has no limitations what so ever, horse poo, rabbit poo, and her personal favourite fox poo. She loves that last one so much that we have to keep a bottle of ketchup just for her so that we can wash her in it after she has rolled through a great steaming pile…. but enough of her general misdemeanours, let me tell you about today.

The general Sausage behaviour at Pudding HQ has seen some improvement in the last few weeks, and in hindsight this was probably the reason I let my guard down. I was fooled into a sense of security by a couple of chipolatas… Tonight I had to pop to the Drs and with Mr Pudding at work this meant I had to take Pudding & Pie with me and the appointment was right on tea time. Not a great beginining but manageable I thought. Kids loaded into car, no need to take all the usual stuff, we weren’t going to be long. Arrive at the Drs – speak to receptionist, sinking realisation that the appointment is in fact next week, damn! Get kids back in the car and head home, we have been all but 15 minutes maximum…

 

Open the front door. Strangely there is no barking which is unusual, normally both dogs go crazy. Look into the living room and down towards the kitchen to see Flicks pig-like hind quarters wobble round a corner. Then the carnage that is the front room hits me! In the 15 minutes we have been gone Flick has decided that she wants to get into the changing bag , where completely forgotten is an unopened dairylea dunker, or should I say there was! There is now a pristine clean empty dairylea dunker package on the couch, whilst the floor has fallen victim to what was probably only 3 tissues but at this point looks like about 1000…

The entire contents is out of the changing bag and as I begin to clear up the mess I put my hand in something sticky. There it is that moment of complete horror when you realise that the dog has in fact pierced the bonjela teething gel and has eaten half the tube, I whip round to see where she is and if she is ok. At this point Flick is laid on her bed looking at me, slightly quizzically.

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She knows I am angry but she knows if she stays still I will probably just let it go. I guess she probably would have licked me as an apology but her lips and tongue were numb (bonjela appears to be more effective on numbing dog faces than baby gums…) Having cleared up changing bag carnage, I feed the kids, deal with a huge eight legged creature who had to meet a watery end down the plug hole (I have a poo eating sausage dog to contend with I don’t have time or braveness to handle humane removal of hairy spiders as well). We all have a lovely bath time and head up stairs for a story.

About 10 mins later I send Pie down to grab the potty in case he needs the loo in the night. Cue an almighty scream followed by ‘MUM there is POO EVERYWHERE’. Oh no, damn damn damn, in my haste to get the kids to bed I have left Puddings disgusting post immunisation nappy folded on the top of the bathroom bin ready to take straight outside. Except now it isn’t on the bin, no no, its strewn all. over. the. house. Those who have never had a nappy shredded may not realise that a wet nappy is full of gel beads that are quite slimey and on top of this is a layer of loose evil smelling poop. I put the kids to bed, the damage is done now after all! As i come down the stairs an awful smell hits my nostrils, I walk through the dining room, stepping over some poo covered wipes, Toby is on his bed shaking and looking thoroughly disgusted (Toby hates poo, he is more of a sick kinda guy).

Flick is nowhere to be seen, but as I head for the source of the awful stench now leaking round my house I can see her in the bathroom. She doesn’t hear me coming, she has her head down snaffling chunks of poo and licking baby wipes clean, as if the smell is not bad enough to witness that was really the final straw – she was banished to the garden whilst clean up was undertaken…

You would think I would have  learnt my lesson with Flick. Like I said she is a self confessed-pooaholic. I should have realised from when I first started potty training Pie and she stole the poo out of the potty before I could tell him what a great job he had done (I swear that is why we are still fighting the potty training!), that she was an addict. That all temptation needed to be removed… But alas she still lulls me into thinking she will be ok, its those eyes, I just can’t resist them. She is the naughtiest, most disgusting, poo eating dastardly dachshund that has ever lived, but by god she makes me laugh and I wouldn’t really have her any other way!
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