Today was moving day...
My Grandmother has lived with my parents for over 23 years, since I was four years old (I was far better looking back then, but less charming).
She was basically a second parent to me. As a child, she would play hide and seek with me (always hiding in the same freakin closet, c'mon Grandma!) make me snacks (peanut butter and banana sandwiches, nom nom nom nom nom!), and ensure that I caught the "dial-a-ride" bus to my classes. That's right, the dial a ride, which is basically a bus that you call to come pick you up and take you anywhere for money. I do not think they exist anymore, probably because they SUCKED.
Anyhoo, today, Grandma moved into an apartment at Mount Mercy in Grand Rapids.
The building itself looks like an immense castle from the exterior; with sprawling arches, jutting buttresses, and enormous stained glass windows. However, the interior looks like a school, with drab white cinder-block walls and dim lighting that has a dull flicker to it.
The hallways smell like farts. I assume this was because of the elderly folk mulling about in the halls, letting 'er rip because, hey, their old and what is there to do when you're old other than read, sleep, and fart.
Grandma's apartment was dusty to the point that I really wanted to clean it... which is odd for me because I never want to clean anything! It also has that really short industrial style carpet in it that might as well be made of cement because that's what it feels like.
Needless to say, I am a bit hesitant about Grandma living there. I am concerned that she will find her apartment to be rather confining, and will get lonely.
It was this concern that caused me to suggest at dinner with my cousins this evening that we buy her a dog.
You know, a little lap dog that would keep an 87 year old woman, (who claims she is 83), company in her little apartment.
My cousin Nellie suggested a Chihuahua, (no, Chihuahuas are evil Satan spawn), and my cousin Jon suggested a Dachshund, to which Nellie responded, "Some Dachshunds are bastards."
"Some Dachshunds are bastards."
The line brought me back in a weird deja-vu flashback moment to a time when I was a child and was chased up a tree by a snarling, angry Dachshund. It was the type of flashback that chills one to the bone, and makes one's testicles ascend into one's stomach.
It was then that it hit me: My cousin is absolutely right, some Dachshunds are bastards.
This begs the question: what causes some Dachshunds to be bastards?
Upon doing days of research, hours of field study, and minutes in a lab trying to make a bomb, I have come to a startling conclusion as to why so many Dachshunds are bastards: unforgiveness.
That's right, unforgiveness.
As a member of the hound family, the dachshund has been pooped on again, and again, and again.
They have nicknames such as "wiener dog" and "hot-dog dog" which refer to their elongated bodies.
They are also names used for penises.
The Dachshund has had trouble forgiving mankind for this atrocity, and this is one reason they are such evil bastards.
According to the American Kennel Club’s breed standards, "The Dachshund is clever, lively and courageous to the point of rashness, persevering in above and below ground work, with all the senses well-developed. Any display of shyness is a serious fault."
The key word here is "rashness". I cannot count how many times I have been cut off in traffic by one of these jerks. They also tend to live in areas where crime rates are high... Gee, I wonder why? God knows African Americans don't own Dachshunds, (they don't get along with Pit Bulls, Dobermans, or Marijuana), Asians are to busy doing math to commit crimes, and white people don't need to break the law since we all have cushy white-collar jobs and bring home six figures. America rules.
The only logical conclusion is that the Dachshunds have become sentient and are traveling their neighborhoods at night, robbing the elderly and vandalizing Honda Accords.
The breed is known to have spinal problems, especially intervertabral disk disease (IVDD), due in part to an extremely long spinal column and small rib cage. The risk of injury may be worsened by obesity, jumping, rough handling, or intense exercise, which place greater strain on the vertebrae.
What kind of crap is that? We have created a dog breed that can't do anything! And what dog have you ever met who doesn't enjoy jumping, rough handling, and being fat? NONE. One can only assume that the unforgiveness toward us for turning them into these monstrosities is immense.
Despite all of this, Some people train and enter their dachshund to compete in Dachshund racing, such as the Wiener Nationals (I swear to God this is what the competition is actually called).
There is also an annual dachshund run in Kennywood, located in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, called the Wiener 100, and in Huntington, West Virginia called the Dachshund Dash.
I recently interviewed Penis Metaphor, the winner of the 2009 Wiener 100. He claims that he is routinely criticized by his owners for being, "too slow and fat." He also commented on how good my steak looked and asked if he could eat it. I obliged him, and upon asking for my steak back, was met with a vicious growl. Bastard.
In conclusion, my cousin was right, some dachshunds are bastards. And unfortunately, the ones who aren't are all gay.
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