Dachshund Standard puppy advice says to start with sit, and there’s nothing wrong with sit. Sit is a lovely party trick.
Sit also won’t do a single thing for you when your fourteen pound sausage hound catches the scent of a rabbit three yards ahead and decides that rabbit is now the entire purpose of his life.
That’s the gap nobody warns new owners about. Dachshunds were bred to go down a badger tunnel alone, make decisions alone, and ignore whatever the human was shouting into the dirt above them. Stubbornness isn’t a defect in this breed, it’s literally the job description.
So the commands that matter most for a doxie aren’t the ones that film well. They’re the ones that interrupt a hardwired hunting brain mid launch, protect a spine that appears to have been designed by a committee with a sense of humor, and stop a very small dog from starting something with a very large one.
Here are the five, ranked roughly by how much trouble you’re in without them.
1. Come (Recall, and Why Yours Probably Doesn’t Work Yet)
Recall is the one that saves lives, and it’s also the one dachshunds are worst at, which is a spectacularly unfair combination.
A retriever hears "come" and thinks: my person wants me, that sounds nice. A dachshund hears "come" and runs it through a cost benefit analysis.
Your job is to stack that analysis in your favor before you ever need it in an emergency.
Build it indoors, and build it boring
Start in a hallway. Say the word once, then pay like you’re bribing a witness: three or four small treats delivered one at a time, not a single sad kibble.
Repetition builds the habit, but payout size builds the enthusiasm. A dachshund who thinks "come" pays out big will choose you over a squirrel maybe sixty percent of the time, which is roughly fifty nine percent better than average.
Then move to the yard. Then the yard with distractions. Then a long line at the park.
A recall you’ve only practiced in your kitchen is not a recall. It’s a kitchen trick that happens to use the same word.
Never, ever poison the word
Here’s the classic mistake. You call your dog, he comes, and then you clip the leash on and leave the park. Or you call him and trim his nails.
Do that five or six times and he’s learned that "come" means the fun stops now.
Call him sometimes for nothing. Pay him, then release him back to sniffing. Keep the word clean.
2. Leave It
Every dachshund is a nose with legs attached. That nose finds chicken bones, dropped ibuprofen, rat bait, and one specific mystery item in the gutter that appears to be made of pure joy.
"Leave it" buys you the half second you need.
Teach it as a trade, not a scolding
Put a boring treat in your closed fist. Let him snuffle, paw, and generally editorialize about your hand.
The moment he backs off even slightly, mark it ("yes!") and pay him from your other hand with something better.
The lesson lands fast: ignoring the thing produces something superior. You’re not taking something away, you’re running a currency exchange, and he’s the one profiting.
Once that’s solid, move to an item on the floor with your hand hovering nearby. Then on the floor uncovered. Then on a walk.
The version that actually matters
Practice it outdoors on real gross stuff while he’s on leash, because that’s where you’ll need it.
A "leave it" that only works on kibble in your living room is decorative.
3. Wait
Wait is different from stay. Stay means hold this position until I return. Wait means pause right here until I say otherwise, and it’s the command you’ll use forty times a day without thinking.
Front door swinging open? Wait. Car door? Wait. Curb, elevator, vet lobby full of Labradors? Wait.
The stairs conversation
Now for the part that makes dachshund people wince.
That long back is a genuine structural liability, and roughly one in four dachshunds will deal with intervertebral disc disease at some point. Repeated hard landings and twisting launches off stairs and furniture stack the odds badly.
"Wait" at the top of a staircase means you get to scoop him up instead of watching him rocket down like a furry Slinky.
Teaching a doxie to pause at the top of the stairs isn’t overprotective parenting. It’s the cheapest spinal insurance policy on the market.
Start with the leash on, one step, and a treat delivered at your side rather than tossed ahead. You’re rewarding stillness in position, not the idea of stopping somewhere eventually.
4. Off
"Down" and "off" get muddled constantly, and the confusion causes real problems.
Pick one word for lie down and a completely different word for get your feet off that thing. Dachshunds are smart, but they’re not going to untangle your inconsistent vocabulary for you.
Why off is a health command
Sofas are usually somewhere between eighteen and twenty two inches tall. That’s a small hop for most dogs and a meaningful impact for a dog whose spine is roughly twice as long as it is tall.
The dachshund who launches off the couch a dozen times a day is doing a dozen small deposits into an account you never want to withdraw from.
Off gives you a controlled dismount. You say it, he pauses at the edge, you lift him down or he uses the ramp.
Make the ramp the easy choice
Buy a ramp before you need one, not after. Feed him on it, treat him halfway up, let it become furniture.
A dog who already loves his ramp responds to "off" by trotting toward the ramp, which is exactly the reflex you’re paying for.
5. Settle
Ask any dachshund owner about the noise and watch their eye twitch slightly.
These dogs were bred to bark underground so hunters could locate them through several feet of soil. The volume is not an accident. The volume is engineered.
Settle is the command that gives you a house where the doorbell doesn’t trigger a four minute aria.
It’s a place, not a mood
The trick is that you can’t command an emotion. You can command a behavior, and the emotion tends to follow.
Pick a mat or bed. Lure him onto it, say "settle," and pay him while he’s lying there in a slow drip: one treat every few seconds, gradually stretching the gaps.
You’re teaching his body to hold still. His brain catches up and decides the mat is the boring safe zone.
Calm is a skill, not a personality trait. Dogs who look naturally relaxed usually just got more practice at it.
Layer in the triggers
Once he’ll hold a settle for a minute or two, start adding the things that set him off.
Knock lightly on a wall, then reward the settle. Have someone ring the bell from outside while you pay him for staying put.
The goal isn’t a silent dog, honestly. One or two barks is a dachshund doing his job and you’re not going to breed that out with treats. The goal is an off switch, so the alarm announces the visitor instead of escorting them through dinner.
The order matters more than you’d think
If you’re staring at all five thinking that’s a lot, start with wait and off. They protect the back, they’re the easiest to build into daily routine, and you’ll get reps constantly without setting aside training time.
Then leave it, because the nose is going to find something eventually.
Then grind on recall for the rest of the dog’s life, because it’s never quite finished, and settle whenever the barking finally breaks you.
Five to ten minutes a day beats an hour on Sunday. Short sessions, high pay, end while he still wants more.