My German wife has never owned a dog before. Come to think of it, I’ve never really owned a dog before. Well, when I was a kid, we had a family dog named Beau; a surly old bastard who made a point of sucking his own wiener right beside the dinner table, especially when we had guests over. It was always a loud and surprisingly violent affair, which caused my parent’s adult friends to chuckle uncomfortably until he was finished: “Well, if I could, I’d probably do that too! Hyuck-hyuck! *Huge sip of wine* — and my elementary school friends to inquire with wide-eyed, abruptly vanishing innocence: “Whaaaat’s he doooooing?”
Beau was a Vizsla, and in his prime, he was an award-winning pointer-retriever used for hunting birds. My dad trained him all by himself, just as he’d trained at least 3 other hunting dogs before I was even born. I learned a lot about training dogs from my dad. Still learning from him, as a matter of fact. So I’ve always felt prepared to own a dog — I just never had the motivation… until 2014.
In the summer of 2014, my wife and I began discussing the possibility of getting a dog; you know, to expand this strange little family of ours. Initially, I wanted a French bulldog — one look at those hammer-smashed faces and crazy bat ears had me laughing out loud — but then I read somewhere the little freaks are so inbred they can’t even breed naturally: the male’s hips are too narrow to mount the female, so she has to be artificially inseminated. (But I like to imagine them trying anyway; I bet it looks like Frodo humping the bejesus out of Lady Galadriel’s leg.) Also, my wife thinks they’re perfectly hideous, so that pretty much killed my whole Frenchy idea.
Yes, I know beagles are hounds, and therefore prone to howling — or baying, if you want to sound like you’ve actually read a dog book or two — but that can be controlled with proper training… or so I keep telling myself and everyone else who will listen. Whatever. We’re getting a beagle, and it’s a great idea, goddammit.
Since we are incredibly slow decision-makers, my wife and I spent most of 2015 just trying to decide on a name. We couldn’t agree on one until recently, but I’m not going to share it with you until we actually have a beagle in our home. (I don’t want to jinx it.) But since we found a name, we felt ready to ask the next big question: Where, or how, exactly, does one go about finding a dog in Germany?
Obviously you could shame all your friends and feel like a good person by going to the local rescue shelter: just google “Tierheim” and add the name of your city at the end. But don’t expect to find the perfect little companion of your dreams; expect something closer to a neglected ex-con with ringworm.
If you want a puppy, you could search for the term “Wurfankündigung,” which means “litter announcement,” or just head on over to eBay.de for really cheap dogs of questionable breeding, like these perfect examples of genetic irresponsibility. (Click one of the thumbnails to get a closer look.)
Or, you could do what my wife and I did: search for a certified breeder, lube up your cinnamon ring and prepare to take it like a porn star, because these guys will charge you anywhere from €800 to €1500 — and that’s just for the puppy itself. Maybe that’ll include the tracking chip, family tree documents and initial round of shots, but you’ll be paying all sorts of annual taxes and fees on top of that just to own a dog in Germany. Plus subsequent vaccinations, food, crates and trips to the vet. (Wait, why are we doing this again, Honey?)
Anyway, dog breeders are called “Züchter,” and you can find certified ones here:
- Verband für das Deutsche Hunderwesen: http://www.vdh.de/
- Internationaler Rassehunde – Verband e.V.: http://irv-loehne.de/
- Welpen vom Züchter.de: http://www.welpen-vom-zuechter.de/
If you can’t read German very well, just do what I did for 3 years and click around randomly until you stumble upon what you’re looking for like a blind man trapped inside an M. C. Escher lithograph. (And by the way, German web designers: Why in God’s holy name would you put ‘Contact Information’ under the ‘About Us’ tab? It’s not 1998 anymore, you backward sons of bitches. That shit ain’t cool.) Or you could use Google Chrome and click “yes” when it asks if you want to translate the page. Or you could simply familiarize yourself with a few German keywords and be done with it:
- Hund (Male dog)
- Hündin (Female dog)
- Welpe (Puppy)
- Welpen (Puppies)
- Tierheim (Animal shelter)
- Wurfankündigung (Litter announcement)
- Züchter (Breeder)
- Zertifizierte Züchter (Certified breeder)
- Die deutsche Sprache kann mich am Arsch lecken. (The German language can lick my ass.)
Now, when it comes to dog ownership, there are two interesting — but rather important — cultural differences between Germans and Americans:
- Not all Germans are into spaying and neutering their dogs. As a matter of fact, when I first arrived in Germany back in 2012, I was dumbstruck by all the pendulous nutsacks on display. See, we Americans tend to “fix” our dogs without giving it a second thought, especially in dog-heavy cities like my hometown, Portland, Oregon. Man, I hadn’t seen a full set of eggs in years — I’d almost forgotten what they looked like. Anyway, spaying and neutering is significantly less popular here, so you might not want to mention to your breeder what you’ve got in mind for your dog’s gentle bits.
- Euthanasia — “putting your dog down” or “putting him to sleep” — is also less common in Germany. In America, we’ll give our dogs a lethal injection just for walking funny. But in Germany? They let their dogs get old. Like, crazy, right-at-death’s-door, depressingly old. Seriously, I have seen some messed up dogs limping around this country, and as an American, I’m still not sure how I feel about that. Personally speaking, if I were in pain and slowly withering away, each day worse than the last, I’d want a mainline ticket to doggie heaven. “Forget that pussy little vein in my foreleg, Doc; give it to me straight in the jugular.”
Aaaaanyway. Just a week or two ago, my wife and I drove out to see our beagle breeder and choose one of the 3-week-old puppies from the new litter. (Yes, that’s way too early — you can’t take them home until they’re 9 weeks old — but this litter is in very high demand, so we had to choose now.) But we found one! …And now we’re just praying he’s not retarded. (Please click one of the images to start the slideshow):
Now, at this young age, puppies want to do exactly two things: sleep and suck on some titties. The problem is, the mother isn’t available 24/7; she’s gotta have some alone time too. So what happens when her litter wakes up from a milk coma? Hungry, sleepy, and with squinted eyes still adjusting to this bright new world? They start feeling around for anything remotely nipple shaped to suck on. And that’s exactly what happened…
One puppy started sucking his brother’s dick. Another one started sucking his sisters clit. Then they all joined in: boy-on-boy, girl-on-girl, and all 100% incestuous. It was fucking crazy.
“Could you… could you please stop sucking on your brother’s penis…” said my wife to one particularly enthusiastic little guy.
Even the breeder was embarrassed. “There’s no milk in there for you…” she said in German, detaching yet another puppy from his brother’s dong.
At one point, I spotted a puppy going apeshit on his sister’s clitoris, but her head was kind of wedged beneath the lip of the box. It looked very rapey. I pulled the male gently away — thinking I’d saved his poor sister from a lifetime of psychotherapy — only to discover her mouth was clamped down on his schmack. They were 69ing. That’s when I threw up my hands: “Screw it. They’ll figure it out on their own.”
Luckily, we won’t be picking up our beagle until he’s 9 weeks old and has — I pray to god — outgrown his taste for family orgies.
Thank you for reading and have an awesome day!