What the Hell Was God Thinking?

This is Charlie. At first I didn't like Charlie. As I witnessed him catch and kill a squirrel five feet away from me, I was reminded of the show "Nature," where the predator pounces upon prey and with bloodlust, shakes the critter until it hangs limply from its jaws. I've never seen a dog do this. Watching this scene play out in excruciating, vivid, growling detail disturbed me. I felt relieved that his little legs kept him far away from my own neck. Another quirk which I did not find particularly adorable was his obsessive eating of Kris' deck. The generous application of tabasco sauce deterred him not at at all. He's also a yapper, at all times of the day and night. He likes to get the other three dogs all riled up and the cat is afraid to come in the house. He tries to get the cat's food, the other dogs' food and begs humans for food. He knows his name but is poorly trained with commands. "Charlie, sit! Sit! Sit!" Maybe dachshunds can't sit. Despite all that, I grew quite fond of Charlie, because he's a cuddler and a lover, laying his long, sleek back up against my leg, placing his head right in my hand, and who could resist that soft, fine fur? I found myself spending long stretches of time staring at his freakish body, liking him and happy at this unexpected turn.