A Dog Day Of Summer

He isn’t attractive. His manners are gauche. His social ineptitude is sky-high. And frankly, he’s dumb. Box of Rocks Dumb.

He arrived right before Christmas, the same year we lost our beloved pug. We were a family of four, back then. He was the other half of a litter of twins, and his brother was deaf. We had wanted a female short-haired red dachshund. We came home with a male long-haired dapple. The breeder called him “Funny Face," so I couldn’t resist this little pup, and promptly wrote out the check. “Funny Face” made me laugh, and I’m all about the humor.

There are days when I want to be dog-less, I’m not gonna lie. Like when Rudy gets a stomach bug, and I am cleaning the carpet from one end of the house to the other. Or when he snacks from the cat-litter box, contributing to his fetid breath. Or when I find my garbage cans knocked over, and half-chewed chicken bones or dirty tissues all over the house. Or during Barking Palooza; the annoying, nails-on-a-chalkboard yippy-yapping that occurs every time the door bell rings. He has absolutely no discernment. Friend or Foe or Housefly? He indiscriminately woofs at them all.

But he loves his family with a passion, and for that, I can forgive all his character flaws. He wriggles excitedly when we return from a 30-second jaunt to the mailbox. He falls into a deep depression when we leave town without him. He refuses walks, hiding under the bed when he sees his leash, not wanting to miss one second of the exciting goings-on of our household. And he’s been fiercely protective of Little Squirt since babyhood, guarding him day and night, always vigilant for Bad Danger lurking around his boy.

Happy 11th Birthday to Rudolph, the Black Nose Doggie-Dear. Barky Von Shnauzer. Sir Stinkinpoopin. Our beloved furry family member, Rudy. We love our Roodles!