Don't Feed the Dog

My sister-in-law has a miniature dachshund named Sadie.

She's cute.

She's sweet.

She's little.

She's also a little bit stupid, considering she failed obedience school.

And she drives my mother-in-law crazy because she goes to the bathroom on her new carpet.

Sadie doesn't like going out in the cold. Yesterday I put her outside to relieve herself and she stood at the door with her tail tucked between her legs, trembling and looking up at me with her limpid brown eyes.

She prefers being rolled up in a blanket on the sofa. But, then again, so do I.

Sadie, like any small dog with a big appetite, is a beggar. She sits ram-rod straight on her hind legs with her front legs tucked up like a rabbit's and waits for you to drop something. It's nice, though, because I don't usually have to sweep up after dinner. Doggy-vacuum.

Because of her begging habit, Sadie struggles with her weight. She's a small dog with a barrel stomach. The vet told my sister-in-law Sadie was two pounds overweight. When you only weigh twelve pounds, that's a lot. Practically dachshund version of morbidly obese. Because of this, we have received strict orders: DON'T FEED THE DOG!
So, Sadie looks on jealously.

But Sadie has a friend, a small compatriot who sometimes finds herself bored at mealtimes and entertains herself by dropping food over the side of her high chair tray. Sadie knows where to stand at dinnertime to get the best meal.

And when it comes to Oreo cookies, she and her best friend both know where to stand and beg.