If you ever become a celebrity yourself, you’ll likely find that the media and general public have a way of developing your image in ways you sometimes cannot control. I just want to make sure that no matter what next big thing happens to me, you know the real me. So that’s why I put together a list of 10 things you didn’t know about me.
1). I may be a celebrity and a stand up guy, but the truth is that I can be a bit shy when meeting new people – or dogs for that matter.
Well, it’s not so much that I’m shy (according to me) – it’s that I’m just too nonchalant to really be bothered by the trivial tidings of a regular person’s daily routine, such as meeting and greeting (no offense to the regular people). I guess that’s just what happens when you’re always so inundated with paparazzi and swarming fans.
2). I “skip” when I walk fast.
Many people consider me a picture of perfection and I would hate to tarnish that impression, but I’ll admit, this is perhaps one imperfection. It’s only in between a walk and a run – call it a trot, do I lift my back-right leg and skip along just using my back-left. It’s a bit strange, but I’ve done it since I was a puppy. The vet said that it’s because my knee pops in and out and at this speed it’s more comfortable to just lift it up (supposedly it’s somewhat common for mini dachshunds).
However, it never bothers me from what others can tell, and Mum and Dad believe it to be more of a habit now than anything.
3). I have some breed prejudices.
And I’m not talking about wire haired’s (that matter’s already been resolved). To start, I am not a fan of German Shepherds, which is strange considering we’re of the same heritage.
I also find black or dark-colored dogs to be very disconcerting. Which is of course also ironic considering I’m mostly black!
I often surprise myself in the mirror – not because I’m black, but because I’m even more good looking than I remembered.
On the other hand though, I have a soft spot for Brittany’s (like a Spaniel). The reason being is that one of my best friends who I grew up with is a Brittany. Her name is Laffie – and get this, she’s also black!
4). I never sleep a whole night with Mum and Dad in the bed.
I will come snuggle with them a bit under the covers when we fall asleep, but around midnight I’ll get up and go sleep in my little crate until about 6 or 7am, at which point I go join them again. The explanation for this one is pretty clear though – my sleeping quarters are much more comfortable and luxurious than Mum and Dad’s (as it should be).
5). I’m bilingual.
Half of my commands are in English and half in French. For instance, instead of “sit”, they say “assieds” (pronounced ah-see-ey), and instead of “stay”, it’s “reste”.
In fact, I am always nicer to service men (like the below cable guy) if they speak French.
6). My birth name, as given by my breeder, was Tuscan.
And ‘Oakley’ (now my brother’s name) was a name that Mum and Dad considered for me. However, luckily Dad had the incredible forethought to know that I would one day become an amazing adventurer, and so decided I would be ‘Crusoe’, after Robinson Crusoe.
Below is the puppy picture given by my breeder, when my name was still Tuscan.
And as a bonus to this, my brother Oakley’s original birth name was – wait for it – ‘George’!
We thought this was a very suitable name for him!
7). Continuing on the above note, I was the last of my litter to go.
Mum and Dad say this was their great luck though, because my timidness as a puppy made me all the more gentle and cooperative when it comes to all my photo shoots and outfits.
And of course, being the last of my litter means I’m all the more appreciative of my loving parents who gave me a home.
8). Dad once lost me – well, sort of.
When Mum went out to do some errands one time at my chalet (our home at the time), Dad was busying himself with some stuff around the house, and soon noticed that I wasn’t around anymore. He called my name inside the house and out, and searched all around. An hour passed of searching, and Dad took to the woods and nearby streets in desperate search.
His worst fear was that I had ventured onto the melting ice (it was springtime) and fallen in. He told himself that if he didn’t find me before Mum got home, he’d have to flee the country (not surprisingly).
Well, Mum got home and I still wasn’t found. It had now been close to three hours that they were looking for me. Let’s just say Mum was far from pleased. She ran my through the woods, following the usual walk routine which we follow every day, calling my name throughout. Still nothing. Mum got back to the house to make some phone calls. And then she heard it – a faint scratching from one of the bedrooms. I had locked myself in a bedroom.
When Mum burst through the door to find me, almost in tears, I looked at her like “I’m taking a nap here, what the heck is all the fuss”
All in all, it was not Dad’s finest moment.
9). I scratch when I want things.
I fully acknowledge that I am bossy, but I consider it my full right to be so. Dachshund, equals bossy. Celebrity dachshund, equals super bossy.
When I want to go outside, I scratch at the door. When I want a piece of Mum’s lunch, I’ll scratch her thigh (pretty much like a nudge). When she has a yogurt on the couch, I’ll jump up on the back edge and scratch her head. When I want to be tucked in, I’ll scratch my bed and look at Mum.
Or when I want her to get up in the morning, I’ll do this…
And I’ve even scratched at the floor and then looked demandingly at Mum when there was a patch of sunlight up on the wall, as if to say “move that sunlight down here”.
10). I’m a romantic, despite all the sexy lady wiener parties.
I know I give off a strong impression that I’m a lady killer and promiscuous party-goer, but the truth is I’m still a romantic. The parties are fun, but Mum has managed to maintain the soft side inside of me.
So even though I say I’m not ready to settle down because I’ve got too many ‘bedroom expeditions’ yet to lead, I’m still waiting for that special someone.
I’m the type of dog who will have a couple bites of kibble and save the rest for later. In fact, I will actually hide or bury my food when I’m not hungry (so that Dad doesn’t find it and eat it of course).
I am also too fancy to accept just any treat. I refuse or spit out a lot of the treats that Mum gives me, and don’t like many bones either. What can I say? I have a refined taste.
Now beer-can chicken with a Coke glaze – that’s more like it…
I’ll take a wing please.
10 11 things you (possibly) didn’t know about me. Is there anything else I didn’t cover here that you’d be curious to know about me? Or does your doggy do any of the same things as above? Let me know in the comments or on Facebook! : )
Keep sharin’ secrets,