I am sitting here for no other reason, except for the sheer strangle-hold that A.D.D. has over my consciousness, contemplating the creational merits of the dachshund. It is a queer and unfruitful being that God has created in this oddity of the K-9 world. One has to wonder why the Good Lord decided "and on this day, I shall create the dachshund, and he shall be called, affectionately, the wiener dog." (cue thunder, lightning and timpani trills.)
I do wonder what the Lord thought when he created that dog? Was He a tad sleepy?
God: *Omnipotent yawn* "Oh, what was I going to make today? Hmmm, the very long squash or some a kind of hound? Hmmmm, that might be interesting! And so it shall be created... (Again, the thunder and lightning.)
[*dachshund is created. God breaths life into the mess*]
First Dachsund: "Arf!"
God: "Gracious, that... wasn't quite as magnificent as it was one minute ago. Oh well."
Now, I know that God never makes a mistake, nor does he think twice about anything that he does... but sometimes, when you see things like the dachshund, or hear things like Britney Spears talk about politics, or ponder the suspicious joy running rampant on any given Japanese Game show... you have to wonder, does the Good Lord create while sleepy? However, I suppose someone could ask the same question about me. The Polaroid taken of my morning attire at this very moment might ruin my life in politics forever... Thank goodness that's out of the question. (Picture or politics.)
I can't think of anything more strange, bizarre, or un-aesthetically pleasing, (other than the male reproductive organs) on God's green earth. However, like the male reproductive organs, the dachshund serves a greater purpose in this big beautiful world. He/she brings pleasure to their master's already-bizarre world-view just as the man brings children, and every-once-in-a-while, physical pleasure to his wife. A final comparison: And like the male organ the dachshund cares not what the world thinks of him and acts entirely on its own behalf, sometimes to its detriment, yipping, carrying-on like a the worst of childish brats when it doesn't get enough attention... maybe it is a strange and cool irony that they share the same informal moniker.
Final note: I have yet to meet a dachshund owner that does not have strangeness in proportion themselves, whether mental or physical. Not to say that the dachshund owner is ugly, nay, many-a-cosmopolitan model has graced our street holding a rope that dangles off the collar of those little weird dogapillars. But I'm sure, upon further examination, one would easily find in them a "strangeness" that would equally match the oddity of the wiener hound.
That's all for now. As you were.