I’m just going to say it: Foxie Doxie was the worst dog ever and I miss him every single day.
He peed on everything. He barked at everything. He was obsessive about securing the perimeter of the yard. If he was a human, he’d be the kid who had to wear a helmet.
That dachshund had no sense of personal space. And even if he was next to you, he tended to spread. One minute, you’re peacefully coexisting on the couch. The next? He’s basically oozed against you and molded his body to yours. Why hello there. Come here often?
A dear friend pointed out the other day that it’s probably a good thing that Foxie has already passed on to the big backyard in the sky. Why? Because Foxie would have totally been called out for #MeToo.
My pal dogsat my menagerie and so knows of what she speaks. She was game for Foxie to sleep in her room, maybe even on the bed. But little did she know she was in for full-on, dachshund-under-the-covers-and-in-your-business action.
I’m so thankful to have a friend who remembers Foxie with a laugh and real love. Grief is weird – it changes, but it’s always there. Like the lingering sense of fence-line security. You’ll notice that no wild boars or wildebeests have invaded the backyard. I have no doubt that is Foxie’s ever-vigilant doing.
OMG your Foxie sounds like our Buddy. I don’t ever want him to die. That’s normal, right?
Totally normal. Completely!
He was a specific, particular kind of dog. Weird how that type gets under your skin the deepest.
So true! And why does this make me envision him basking in then sun while Air Supply’s “You’re every woman in the world” is playing?
Love the ‘Don’t worry, I’ll surprise you’ – pee on everything bit. Awesome. Well, probably not so much for you. I don’t have dogs. Allergic. Please don’t be that person that fills my kids’ heads about hypoallergenic dogs when my kids rush over to pet your dog as you walk by. That always leaves me wishing I could say, ‘Hey, dog person – can you pick up on my body language here? Do NOT advertise that your dog is hypoallergenic.’ I do love dogs. Really. But at this point I think that ship has sailed. I mean with four boys, I already have ‘pets’ that can pee on everything.
You have totally filled your quota of household residents who can and do pee with wild abandon!
Finding you via Kari’s FB group, and this made me laugh out loud. Because I have been sure for many years that I own the two worst dogs ever, but now I know it’s a three-way tie. Rocky and Daisy are also (surprise!notsurprised! ) Doxies. And they are horrible. And I love them. And they are ancient. Daisy no longer has any teeth and Rocky has only four (and I have no money in my savings account from paying for multiple oral surgeries). Rocky is blind in one eye. He is the most crotchety old-man dog I’ve ever known. Daisy pees outside if she feels like it. Which isn’t often. Once I caught her on top of kitchen table licking the butter. And every time one of them sits in the laundry room (aka, their bedroom) and barks, I rush back there to make sure the other one hasn’t died, and every time I am so relieved that it’s their damn barking for no reason again.
Ohhh, Rita! Rocky and Daisy are definitely Foxie Doxie’s brethren. And I feel you – they’re horrible, but dammit, they’re also the best. The worst best. You know.