Dog Tricks #1

Well, we're off to a searing start.  Two posts in five days, woo hoo!  I've decided to create entries in themes, and, for those of you who need the obvious to be stated, "Dog Tricks" involves the various shenanigans of our children of the canine species.

Rusty, the dachshund, is the newest member of our family.  Despite the opinion that many of my family members hold that shelter dogs are "damaged goods," I knew I wanted to adopt a dog, and we found our little guy at a small rescue organization that consists of one very devoted woman and truckload of wiener dogs.  Think crazy cat lady, but with dogs.  And not so crazy.  Actually she's quite delightful and it's wonderful to see someone so devoted to the well being of animals.  But I digress.  From the moment we brought him home, it was like Rusty had always been here, like he belonged with us.  Do not be fooled by the noble pose in the photo to the right.  Rusty is just as much of a fruitcake as the rest of us. 

In getting to know the personality of a new family member, there are many things you learn about a dog that has had history with other owners, and it can often be entertaining (and/or exasperating) discovering his various quirks.  Number one: Rusty has a fetish for dryer balls.  No matter what other new, dog-appropriate ball or toy was introduced to him, there was only one object of his desire, dryer balls.  If he was ever so lucky as to abscond with one of them, he would disappear under the couch to administer his loving affections (those of you with minds in the gutter, not THOSE affections).  After about a week, I gave up on trying to keep him from taking them, and he was in seventh heaven, carrying them around with him all day long: around the house, outside in the yard, back inside, back outside, back inside, to bed with him, etc.  Sadly, neither of the heavenly objects were not made to endure his  ardent attentions, and have since been reduced to small blue nubs that I now have to pry from M's fingers and mouth.  However, Rusty has not given up hope, and every time I do laundry, he stands steadfastly by the dryer door, most likely thinking it is a shrine of unlimited dryer balls.