Clever As A Fox

So, I grew up with a dachshund, Missy and a whippet, Heather.  They were very different creatures.  Missy was clever as a fox and if it suited her could figure out the code to a safe. Heather was the sweetest thing, but not the sharpest tool in the shed.  Heather has her own story but this one belongs to Missy.

We knew we wanted a dachshund.   Missy the only girl, out of a litter of 6, jumped all over her brothers.  She was clearly ours.  For a low riding dog she had a big personality, big bravado and within a short period of time, she had us all figured out.

She was young when we noticed she was putting on weight.  It seemed odd, we didn’t over feed her (at this point) and she was always on the run.  What could it be?  After a few months we discovered her little trickery.  We’d let her out to run around, and she would go to our next-door neighbor, bark at their door, and they let her in.  Oh, look, Missy’s here!   And they’d feed her.  When she was done, they let her out and she went on to following next-door neighbor, bark at their door, and they let her in.  What fun, Missy’s here!  And they’d feed her.  And then she’d come home for dinner!  And we’d feed her!  She was gaming the entire neighborhood.

One early wintery morning it was my turn to walk Missy.  It was freezing cold and I must have been about twelve and she two.  I was half-asleep, wanting to get the walk over with, when I sensed that Missy was prancing.  I looked down and she had a bird in her mouth.  I could not get her to drop the bird.  She was very proud of her accomplishment.  It was her bird and she was keeping it. She walked down the street with a swagger, and a cartoon bubble saying – “I’m bad, I’m bad, I gotta bird, I’m bad!” I knew she couldn’t bring the bird into the house and she wasn’t letting it go, so I rang the front bell and got my dad. 

It wasn’t until my dad was on his deathbed that I learned how he got her to drop the bird. He tried tickling her, no. He put the hose on her, no. Remember it was freezing.  Finally he grabbed her by her hindquarters and shook her.  That did it.  Down went the bird. 

Our next door neighbors decided to get a dog of their own and opted for two. German Shepherds.  They would come out, bark for Missy, she insisted that she join them, out she’d go and back forth they went barking and running with each other.  For hours. She would run as if her back legs were trying to catch up with her front legs. Although these dogs looked scary, we all knew who ruled that pack.

I remember how determined she was to get the left over chicken off the kitchen counter.  She wanted it and she was going for it.  She gave her best vertical leap repeatedly until she finally made it.  The chicken landed on her back, but her rewards were quickly rebuffed as we placed the chicken in the trash.  Chicken bones and dogs are not a good thing. 

Missy was quite the character.  She was the boss of us and knew it. Inches off the ground but mighty and fierce.  What a fabulous combination.