Doing My Part...

I think I'm developing quite a reputation, and I need to try and change my ways. In order to help out around the house, I decided to assist Dad today with the laundry.

Attack of the Bratwurst

Dad had to go to his "mobile office" today (aka the parked car during street sweeping hours), so while he was gone I used my long dachshund nose to pry open the door of the sideboard and had some fun with Mom's makeup. This is what he came home to:






















Serves him right.

I'll have the French toast with a side of hash browns

I've been doing a bit of research for Mom and Dad in my spare time. I figured I should bone up on the top brunch spots that have outdoor seating and are accommodating to dogs.

My signature "funny face":


































Mom always says not to face the camera straight on:





















There, that's better. A slight tilt to my good side.























P.S. Do I look a bit uneven to you? It's because Mom gave me a lopsided haircut a few weeks ago. She used to do the same thing to Dad, until he put his foot down and stopped letting her cut his hair. Wish I had done the same...

I'm not a weiner dog

When people ask what kind of dog Mom and Dad have, their first response is "dachshund." When they're met with a puzzled look in return, Mom and Dad's second response is "weiner dog," and the questioner's eyes always light up.

I'd argue that Bratwurst would be more apt, for two reasons: 1) it's German, like me, and 2) I'm becoming quite a little brat. It all started when we moved to New York. Dad stays home with me all day, and sometimes he'll be on an important-looking phone call or typing frantically on the computer, meaning he isn't devoting one hundred percent of his attention to ME. To rectify this, I have a plethora of tricks up my sleeve: tap dance around at his feet until he grows tired of my shuffling and picks me up, torment the cats until he decides to rescue them and pick me up, and let out one shrill yap to let him know I'm there, waiting to be picked up. Some of these techniques are more effective than others (the latter takes the longest, and hence is only reserved for extreme cases, because he scolds me, I run under the couch and hide, and then he feels guilty and coaxes me out), but in the end, I always end up on his lap.



When Dad has to move, say, to use the bathroom, my brattiness is unfurled like ticker-tape at a parade: I growl at him. But I need to work on my ferociousness, because he just laughs at me.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Here are some of the many reasons I love my Dad:

He's proud to have the same hairstyle as me

He laughs at me when I raid the dirty clothes, instead of taking away the prizes I find

He not only shares food with me, he always reminds Mom to save little bites for me too (she usually forgets me, or perhaps is more conscious of my expanding waistline)

He keeps lobbying to take me on the subway - Mom isn't so sure, but Dad thinks I'll love it!

He and I have lots of conversations during the day, when it's just to two of us

He often brings Mom home from work...

...and on some special afternoons, he and I wait for her out front

He always picks me up during the day while he's working, even if it means he can only type with one arm:

Don't I look comfy?

I love you Dad! You're the best Dad a dachshund could ask for!

It's a Small World After All...

Mom and Dad were walking down a street near our home (without me!) when they spotted a beautiful longhaired red doxie. They struck up a conversation in order to be able to pet him, and once they learned his name - Oscar - Mom mentioned he was a dead ringer for a dog recently featured on one of their favorite blogs, Doxiementary
.

It turns out to be the very same Oscar! Mom's so proud of her first celebrity sighting.






















(This picture is from the Doxiementary post about Oscar; we highly recommend you pop over there, read it, and bookmark the site!)

Oscar lives a few blocks away from us and I can't wait to meet him when we're out for a walk one night. Don't worry Franny, I won't steal him from you - I only have platonic designs on him.

This Tortie Cat Must be Crazy...

If she thinks she's taking me for a walk!

Luckily, Mom and Dad put a stop to this. Can you imagine how humiliating that would have been? I would have been the laughing stock of Southstreet Seaport!

Living in the city wears me out...