Schnaggle of Schnauzers by Ruth Ross Saucier

I was once the mother to a schnaggle of six schnauzers. Yes, the AKC has dubbed a collection of schnauzers as either a “shout” or a “schnuggle” of schnauzers, but schnaggle sounds more like the chaos I experienced, so that’s my call.

Due to a precocious boy who didn’t listen when the vet said he couldn’t, we were the proud parents of Mom Liesl, Dad Shadow, Uncle Snickers, and the three little girls: Emily, Peabody, and Derry. They were generally a joy, but occasionally a trial.

One winter evening I came home to an unsettling sight: the house was all lit up and the front and side doors were wide open to the frigid night. From inside came a banging and a clashing accompanied by occasional grumbling and swearing.

But where were the dogs? The doors were never wide open!

I peered into the living room to see damp floors and no sign of dogs. An irate husband explained this way (heavily edited to avoid offending your sensibilities):

The latest trip to Costco had scored enormous bags of rawhide chews, Milkbones, and multi-colored pasta. All the bags had been squirreled away in the back of kitchen cabinets, but one of the Gang of Six had discovered how to open cabinet doors and drag out all three humungous containers onto the floor—along with miscellaneous other bottles, boxes, and canisters.

All six reaped the bounty.  They started by gorging on the Milkbones and then found the rawhide chews.  Since any self-respecting schnauzer knows that the rawhide chew you have is never as good as the one your sister has, they did their usual routine: chew yours, steal hers, argue over it, and then when you’re tired, stash as many as you can where nobody else will see them. And then somebody found the multi-colored pasta, ripped into the bag, scattered the contents everywhere, and chewed several, searching for one that tasted better than the last.

The all-day Bacchanalia ended predictably: Everybody threw up, here and there, hither and yon, and then proceeded to repeat the procedure above.  And the hording was epic. Milkbones, rawhide chews, and pasta [both untouched and regurgitated] were found stashed in every nook and cranny: next to, behind, on top and under the piano, the sofa, the fireplace, and the books. 

The dogs were quarantined in the bathroom while the whole house got a liberal swabbing. And then, of course, that was followed by six baths, since it’s hard to wrassle over a chew bone without rolling in puke. 

Two years later we moved the sofa from one side of the room to the other. In the old spot there were a few rawhide bones on the floor.  Thinking that was odd, I tipped the sofa up to investigate. A few more chew bones spilled out and a torn liner disgorged the schnauzers’ secret stockpile. A full inventory revealed over 125 chew bones, stashed in the underside of the sofa. Yes, 125.

Child locks went on the kitchen cabinet the next day.