Missy's Rescue Story

     Hi, my name is Missy McQuinn, my mom is helping me tell my story.  You may have read about my brother Riley on my mom’s blog.  If not then go back and read it.  It was the first thing that my mom wrote as she was relearning how to write and use the computer/keyboard again.  I begged my mom to write about me.  I really did not have to beg much, because I have her wrapped around my little paw.  I am a cute, adorable, sweet brown miniature dachshund.  I weigh 13.1 lbs and I am 5 years old.  I was born on 7-14-08.  I am currently 5 years old.  I live with my dachshund brother Riley, mom Rene, and dad Pat.  I am daddy’s little girl.  He gets up in the middle of the night, when I need to go potty during the night.  I wake him up by licking his face.  I run out do my job, and then run back to my place under mom’s covers next to her warm body. Mom sleeps right through my night adventures.  Mom would never get up in the middle of the night to let me out.  She needs her beauty sleep, and lot of it. If dad is off working, and mom oversleeps too long, that is past 8:30am, I wake her up by licking her face. I need to go potty, and I need my breakfast.  I have a bedtime routine of jumping up on my parent’s bed and licking my dad’s hands before going under my mom’s covers.  I love to lick people, dogs, car seats, windows, dad’s coffee cup, and many other things. 

     My birth name was Lady Diana.  I got the name Missy from Jocelyn my mom’s oldest grandchild.  My dad and Jocelyn were planning on getting a new dog from NE Dachshund Rescue.  There was a dog that looked a lot like me, named Missy that dad called about.  That Missy was going to be adopted by her foster mom, so dad fell in love with my picture.  Jocelyn wanted a Missy dog, so dad told her that I was Missy.  I first met my parents while living at my second foster parents home.  My first foster parents could not take care of me due to an illness.  That day I also met my brother Snoopy.  Mom and dad wanted to make sure we would get along.  At that time I was 14 months old.  I joined my “furever” home on 9-13-09.  My adoption fee was $250 and I was listed as owner surrender on my bio page.  We were told that I was surrendered to a vet in Kearney, NE.  I licked too much and was licking off the medicine that my owner’s dog needed to have.  NDR got me from the vet.  We were also told that someone adopted me but returned me because ________?  Did you guess?  I licked too much.  My brother Snoopy loved my licking.  He would roll over and I would lick and lick him.  Snoopy could not walk and had been disabled for seven years until his death during the summer of 2011.  A border collie named Cody stepped on his back and broke it.  He had the surgery but could not use his back legs.  He got around by using his front legs or would use a cart.  He had a ramp in the living room and outside on the deck to help him get around.  Mom had to take him out to release his bladder since he did not have any control over his bladder or bowel.  We did not use a kennel back then.  I hated kennels.  I had a cut on my nose while living at my foster parents due to trying to escape my kennel.  I loved living in a home without a kennel.  I love going camping and on rides.  Mom would put Snoopy in a baby stroller and we would go off on rides.  When I got tired of walking, I could hop in and hitch a ride with Snoopy. 

    I could not deal with Snoopy dying and being left alone.  I was a very bad girl.  I did pee jobs on the upstairs carpet.  I chewed up the blinds and tore them off the wall.  My parents had enough and put me in a wire kennel.  I broke out of that kennel and greeted my parents at the door, when they came home from church.  I broke through the wire welds on the kennel and then climbed out the top of it.  They got a plastic kennel with wire top air vent.  I bent a couple of those wires but did not escape. Now I am doing fine in my kennel with Riley.  I just can’t be left alone. Yes, I have “doggy left alone” disorder or DLA.  I do need counseling or medication, to get over this disorder, but mom is too cheap to spend the money.  Currently, I go right in my kennel because dad gives me a treat, and my bro is in with me.  I miss my parents when they leave us.  When they arrive home, I go crazy by crying, jumping, and licking when they get home.

    Mom thinks my mental troubles stem from my childhood.  I did not have that loving firm foundation that every pup needs in life.  I was taken from my doggy mom at a very young age.  I lived with a lady and her dog, and then she left me at the vet.  I lived in two foster homes and one failed adoption/furever home.  I have another disorder that mom calls, “little dog syndrome”.  If you own a small dog like me, you know about that one.  I bark at every big dog I see.  I am telling them to back off, because they do not want to see what I would do to them.  It is not sniffing their butts, since that is too high up for me.  I also think that I can reach those squirrels in the trees.  I bark and bark calling for them to come down and play.  I really just want to kill not play.  I am not a mean dog but it has something to do with genetics.  I am a born hunter.  I did catch a squirrel once that my mom knows about.  She found it half dead in the yard and would not let me finish the task at paw.  She had to kill it with a big rock, to put it out of its misery. Mom does not know about my other kills or injuries to wildlife.  Dad told me to stop climbing the trees in my yard, because I might get hurt jumping down.  I do listen and follow dad’s directions, but not mom’s.  You are probably thinking dogs can’t climb trees.  Just ask my dad to see the picture of me in the tree on his cell phone.  He was looking for me and could not find me because I was in the tree.  That darn squirrel kept climbing higher up that darn tree.  I wanted to use another word in the place of darn, but I don’t want hot sauce on my tongue or the threat of hot sauce.  Maybe I could get away with it.  Mom has vision problems and hot sauce does look a lot like barbecue sauce.  Maybe I could have it served over chicken.  I am fooling myself.  Mom would never give me chicken.  She has me and Riley on a strict dog food only diet. Dad is a different story.  I need to take a short break, I smell hotdogs.  PS. Don’t tell mom, but sometimes I sneak food off of her plate, when she is eating on the couch next to me.   She may not be able to see me, but can hear me crunching, so I have to be really quiet and gum the food.

     Back from the snack break, I told you earlier that I have dad wrapped around my little paw.  I got my workout in today. Mom made me go to the park with her.  I will only go around once and will not venture off the trail.  I am a creature of habit plus my little legs don’t like to walk very far.  Just today, I refused to walk to the trash can in the park to allow mom to deposit Riley’s breakfast meal.  When we got to my backyard I refused to go down the sidewalk that leads around to the side gate.  Mom was not allowed to go through the back gate since dad is trying to grow grass back there.  He tries every year to grow grass back there, but can’t.  That is the path that Riley and I take when we are barking at walkers and their dogs.  We run back and forth, and call it our barking path.  We sit on the couch and watch for walkers, once outside we met up at our barking path.  I am also watching out the window for squirrels.  When I am on squirrel watch, no squirrels are allowed in our yard.  Mom needs to get a sign for the backyard that reads BEWARE OF DOG, so squirrels, rabbits, birds, and small rodents are warned.

     When the weather is nice I love working on my tan.  I work on my tan in the house, yard, and even the front window of our motor home.  I jump up in the window and stretch out and soon I am snoozing away.  Just like mom, I need my beauty sleep, plus I do lose some sleep in the night since I have that pee break in the wee hours of the morning.  At times I really can hold my pee like Riley can; but I just need to make sure the back yard is free of night creatures. Under the deck ramp there are rodents living there.  I have tried to hunt them down by digging up the grass surrounding their home.  Dad is also trying to plant new grass seed there again this spring.   He can’t blame me, it’s just genetics.

     I have to run now.  Riley just barked to let me know that a dog and his owner are on the trail.   Mom said that I can’t go because I need to stay on task.  Who does she think I am- one of her students? When my parents first moved to their house, there was no trail behind them.  There was just a park with trees, grass, squirrels, and other wildlife plus the walnuts.  She was sooo… mad when the trail was put in.  All those people with their pets, bikes, strollers, or horses now grace the trail in our back yard.  The lady that walks her horse has a Great Dane that everyone calls a horse.  Kind of like when people call me a hot dog or wiener dog.  I just heard that again from an adult in the park, “Look at those cute wiener dogs.”

     I will close with a joke and a warning:  A smooth-haired dachshund and a long-haired dachshund were walking down the street.  The smooth turned to the longhair and complained, “My life is such a mess.  ‘My owner is mean, my girlfriend is having an affair with a wirehair and I’m as nervous as a cat.”  “Why don’t you go talk it over with a psychiatrist?” asked the longhair.  “I can’t,” replied the smooth.  “I’m not allowed on the couch.”     -from Dachshund Humor
     Besides having a sign that reads Beware of guard dog, I need one for my dad and his grandkids that reads:  WARNING Do Not Step on the Guard Dog!