3 Daschunds

My previous experience with daschunds was my mother's stories of having one as a little girl. This past week has made me all too familiar with them. I'm housesitting for a family of three: one is an old wire-haired one called Wheel; one is a medium sized, long-haired one called Roger; the third is a tiny little skittish, short-haired, spotted one called Freeman (names changed to protect their privacy).


They all have bladders the size of peanuts. Freeman won't even come outside with me--he does all of his business inside. In addition, they wake up and start barking at 6:30. Their early hours, combined with the hard bed, the phone that rings without stopping before 10 a.m. and a slew of bad dreams (especially about ghosts) means I'm rather sleep deprived and don't tolerate the 6 a.m. barking very well. Honestly, it feels like I have a baby (or what I imagine having a baby feels like--I'm sure it is even more work than I can imagine right now--although, at least babies wear diapers!).


These dogs are not just a pain, they are also cute (well, and gross--the love to lick me--my arms, my legs, even my clothes). They sleep for most of the day on the couch--Roger and Freeman cuddle, shifting to different positions across the couch, but always cuddling.