Dirty, dirty dawg

To “celebrate” the opening of “Snakes on a Plane,” the radio station I listen to was talking about snakes and that segued into phobias, since one of the DJs is afraid of snakes. Since I’ve been trying to figure out what fact to write about today, that gave me the perfect idea.

Fact 2: I am terrified of dachshunds.

Put me near a pitbull, rottweiller, etc, and I’m fine. I don’t believe those dogs are evil by nature, there are just evil people who train them to be vicious. I’ve even stared down a snarling, growling doberman that was roaming the streets loose, not scared at all. I love dogs. They’re loyal and sweet and protective… wonderful creatures. I’m not scared of dogs as a whole – ONLY dachshunds. Those are the vilest, most evil creatures to ever roam the other. (I also say dachshunds are related to cockroaches: short legs, long body, evil creatures; but that’s neither here nor there.)

And yes, I do have reasons for my intense hatred/fear of these creatures:

1) I was roughly about 10 years old, and my mom and I were visiting a friend’s house, who had a dachshund. I’d been there multiple times before, so I wasn’t a stranger to the dog, and he never had issues with me. On this day, I was in Misty’s bedroom and we were QUIETLY playing Barbies. My mom, her mom, and the devil dog were in the kitchen at the complete opposite end of the house. And when I say we were playing quietly, I mean that there was no fighting, arguing, screaming, loud laughing, etc. All of a sudden, her dog came flying out of the kitchen, through the dining room, through the living room, down the front hall, into Misty’s room, around her bed, past her, and attacked me. It latched onto my left earlobe, it’s teeth almost piercing the skin all the way through. The dog stays hanging there while I am screaming bloody murder in pain, and Misty started screaming for her mom. Our parents had to come into the room to find out what was going on and remove the foul vermin from my ear. That resulted in a trip to the ER for me, but I was lucky and the wounds didn’t require stitches. (I was going to do a drawing of the house to show how far out of the way the dog had to run to attack me, but I couldn’t get anything to turn out right.)

2) I’ve been around other dachshunds before, usually in PetSmart/Petco, etc, and they all snarl and growl at me. It’s not a thing of them smelling my fear and growling – it’s somewhat the opposite. I’ve passed them before I developed this phobia, not caring one way or the other, and they will growl at me. Since the phobia, I can have my back turned and have no clue at all there’s a dachshund around when I’m in a pet store, until I hear that telltale growl and turn around to see them. Some have even tried to snap at me before.

3) A youth pastor had one of these vermin, and I was forced to deal with it whenever we were at his house. I did my best to face my fear, even letting the creature near me. It had a fascination with me, always wanting to be near me out of a group of people. When it tried to climb on me and sniff my ears, that was it and I freaked out. I couldn’t handle it, and I couldn’t go over there anymore when the dog was out.

(And for the record? Nope. I’m not afraid of snakes.)

3 thoughts on “Dirty, dirty dawg”

  1. Aw… I love little weiner dogs! πŸ˜‰

    There used to be a big german shepard that lived across the street from a playground in my neighborhood when I was around eleven years old. He’d chase little kids, and although he wasn’t mean, it was scary seeing a big dog like that galumphing towards you. I’d often climb up the slide to get away from him, fearing that I’d be tackled πŸ™‚

  2. Emily – I like the rest of the little ones! Just not the evil ones. πŸ˜‰

    Diz: They’re evil!!! The doberman I mentioned at the beginning of the post, I was probably about 12-13 at the time. S/he was running down the middle of the street, growling and snarling and snapping at people. All my friends ran up onto a porch, but I headed out towards the center of the street towards the dog. It watched me, barking and growling like crazy, but I kept going. I was quiet, staring straight into it’s eyes, no smile (bared teeth=bad) and walked right up to it. It slowly got quieter, then actually sat on command. It let me pet it, but when my friends tried to come off the porch and over to us, the dog went into a snarling fit again. Haha. It let me take it to my house, though, and check the tags on it’s collar and call it’s owner to come get it.

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