The Hounds From Hell

Our Hounds from Hell: Nora (left) and Nicky – those expressions that first day we picked them up say it all.

It’s been a week of birthdays around here. Last Sunday Nora (Elenora di Capena*) celebrated hers and today is Nicky’s (Fantastico Nicky*) day to howl. They are 13 in our years which according to the new calculations is 68 doggie years. They are both in good general health but like other old folk, who will remain nameless, they have their aches and pains and do nap a fair bit. Nicky has macular degeneration but Laurent patiently gives him drops twice a day which slows the process down. Nora, who has always been a prima donna, has become a bit of a curmudgeon (they do say dogs take after their owners).

As for being Hounds from Hell – the moniker is an affectionate one. They can be little pains in the… neck but Papa and Gros Pa wouldn’t have it any other way.

*Their registration names – the Ente Nazionale della Cinofilia Italiana (Italian Kennel Club) required that the names for dogs registered in March 2009 had to begin with either E or F???

The word for February 24th is:
Dachshund /ˈdäksˌho͝ond,ˈdäksənd/: [noun]
A breed of long-bodied, short-legged dogs of German origin that occur in short-haired, long-haired, and wirehaired varieties
Late 19th century: from German, literally ‘badger dog’ (the breed being originally used to dig badgers out of their setts).

Gratuitous HFH Video

I was going through old photos/videos on my iPad to free up some space and came across a – I know you won’t believe it!! – a video of one of the HFH. It was taken back in May of 2015 in our old apartment in Ottawa.

Hound toys have never lasted very long in our household. A squeaky toy can be rendered mute within 20 minutes and the body buried in the centre of the room immediately thereafter. If it can be chewed to pieces – including those expensive “indestructible” bones/balls – that will be accomplished in Olympic record time. Nothing is safe from the iron jaws of the HFH – and I might add that includes their blankets. Not only are these things thought of like unto the bodies of Christians to Roman lions* they are often ingested which may well have been a welcome feast for the lions but can be a problem for a dachshund.

Though costly toys have been purchased, destroyed, and discarded one of Nicky’s favourites has always been the roll from paper towels. He always seems to know that moment when the last sheet will be used and he waits expectantly for the roll to be thrown to the floor; where it is to be captured, protected from the prying hands of humans, and dismembered. Be assured that it is retrieved by those human hands before it can be chewed into paper-mache and swallowed.

*Yes I know it was a myth perpetrated by the early Church to gain sympathy and credibility but I’ll use it anyway.

The word for October 6th is:
Indestructible /ˌindəˈstrəktəb(ə)l/: [adjective]
Not destructible; incapable of decomposition or of being destroyed.
Prefix in- not + destructible:probably from Late Latin indestructibilis, from Latin in- + destructus, past participle of destruere to tear down.
We really should have hired out the HFH as guinea pigs (sorry kids) to those “indestructible” doggie toy makers.

Nora’s Routine

Exercises for the senior dog.

As anyone who owns a dog(s) – and I believe cat(s) – will tell you the little darlings have their own particular routines. You, the owner and master (snigger) obediently settle into them.

Take our Nicky – no this is not a Henny Youngman* joke – as an example. As we come in from our walks he stops half-way up the ramp that gives access to outside door; he looks around to ensure the neighbourhood is safe and all is in order; comes in and circles around me once to make sure I am bringing nothing undesirable into his house; then he places his front paws on the first step and waits to be picked up and carried up the stairs. An office that I dutifully perform.

Our Nora has her own routines, particularly first thing in the morning. She comes out of her kennel and proceeds through a stretching exercise that I can only call Yoga for Dachshunds!

The routine you just witnessed is performed, almost to the letter, every morning. Without fail!

*Anyone who understands the reference is older than dirt and obviously watched Ed Sullivan every Sunday night.

November 30th is Mousse Day – chocolate or natural looking finger tip control it doesn’t say!!!

Norse Legends – II

And who’s minding the kids?

Sorry Dr Spo still no Odin or Loki but a bit more of a preamble to our setting off on the voyage. Several people – well okay it was one and the rest was done with mirrors – asked the very important question: who is taking care of the kids while you are pursuing Vikings around Scandinavia?

Here’s Nora asking the same question:

Well our dear friend Blake, Nicky and Nora’s Uncle Pervy, has flown in from Ottawa to look after them. He will be there to attend to their every need and be at their constant beck and call.

September 3 is Skyscraper Day proclaimed he from the 31st floor of a 57 story building. More about that later.

Hounds From Hell Again

Fripperies for the discerning dachshund owner*

For some reason – well actually for two reasons – every day or two I get an advert popping up on my FaceBook page telling me about a new delight for daschund owners.  Normally it is a t-shirt or something of the sort which allow me to publicize to the world that my life is controlled by four (eight in my case) legged, elongated, demanding Hounds from Hell.  I have been collecting them to no known purpose – sorry the adverts not the dogs – they, so I’m told, do have a purpose.  What that purpose may be I will leave to you, my faithful reader, to decided.

This would be our Nora.

Nora once again! With Nicky adding the descant.

That would be Nikcy – here let me just lay my head on your crotch.  Oh and don’t move lest you hurt yourself.

Okay this one is just creepy!

Self-explanatory I believe?

I will leave the last word to the remarkable wordsmithing of E. B. White and his observation on his beloved Fred.

Being the owner of dachshunds, to me a book on dog discipline becomes a volume of inspired humor. Every sentence is a riot. Some day, if I ever get a chance, I shall write a book, or warning, on the character and temperament of the dachshund and why he can’t be trained and shouldn’t be. I would rather train a striped zebra to balance an Indian club than induce a dachshund to heed my slightest command. When I address Fred I never have to raise either my voice or my hopes. He even disobeys me when I instruct him in something he wants to do.

E. B. White

Oh wait a minute I stand corrected the last word – or a least image will go to the Hounds from Hell.

You want me to do what?  Is there a biscuit in the equation? If not just forget it foolish human.

The reason that I finished this post using only my right hand.

*As if anyone can actually own a dachshund!!!!!

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