Dachshund fitting in just fine

ROBERT GARDNER

I grew up owning dogs and always had one until I married. Katy, my

wife, wasn’t an animal lover, and for the first decade or so of our

marriage, we lived in an animal-free zone except for the stink bugs

my daughter kept as pets. I realize that stink bugs don’t actually

qualify as animals, and so did Katy. I think she began to worry about

our daughter’s fascination with stink bugs, and this paved the way

for me to bring home a beagle puppy who was part of the family for

the next fourteen years.

Unfortunately, Sam the Beagle and Katy the Wife didn’t get along

very well. It may have had something to do with the fact that he

never quite became house broken, or maybe it was the constant baying

as he made sure no sparrow or blackbird ever touched our lawn. Our

neighbors, the Neals, thought the dog’s full name was Shut-Up Sam,

they heard the refrain so often.

Anyway, when Sam finally succumbed to old age, Katy made it clear

that there was to be no replacement, and we were without an animal

for another ten or fifteen years when suddenly Katy came home one day

with a black Lab. What a shock. And what a pleasure. Lacie was an

extremely behaved dog, polite both in the house and outside. The only

odd thing about her was a habit she had of twirling around in tight

circles like some sort of dervish. Every so often the urge would come

upon her and she’d spin like a top, round and round for a minute or

so and then stop with a little shake as if to say, “There, that’s out

of my system.”

Lacie had a number of ailments which eventually felled her, and

although she’d been an ideal dog, Katy didn’t want to replace her. I

think she was afraid of getting another Sam.

After Katy’s death, my granddaughter brought me another beagle,

this one a female named Cassie. It was a good thing Katy wasn’t

around. I adored the dog, but I have to admit it was a bit of a

menace. Food crazy, she ruined the finish on all the kitchen drawers

scrabbling to get them open, and like Sam she had a certain lofty

indifference to inside and outside when it came time to relieve

herself. I dreaded the moment a bolt of lightning would strike her,

but I guess Katy was too busy playing bridge or whatever else you do

in heaven to fuss about the cabinets and carpets she’d left behind.

As I’ve explained, Cassie’s appetite got her into trouble in more

ways than simply damaging the kitchen woodwork. She ate a bag of

Milky Way candy bars, and it killed her.

After a period of mourning, I went to the Irvine Animal Shelter

where I found Rusty, my longhaired Dachshund. The people at the

shelter warned me that it might take several weeks for him to adjust

to his new home, but they didn’t know Rusty. It took him all of

several minutes. He first went out in the garden and strutted around

the perimeter, informing the neighborhood that there was a new dog in

town and that this was his yard. Having taken care of that matter, he

then proceeded to whip me into shape. He trotted into the living room

and hopped up onto the couch, then gave a little nod as if to say I

was welcome to share it. He did the same in the bedroom. That done,

he went into the kitchen, sat politely in front of the food dish

until I fed him, and then he walked over to the leash, and indicated

it was time for our walk.

He doesn’t scratch at the cabinets, and he wouldn’t dream of

mistaking the indoors for the outdoors when it’s time to relieve

himself. And in addition to all this, he’s a vigilant watch dog. You

might think that’s strange for a dog that’s less than a foot tall,

but Dachshunds were bred to hunt badgers, and I can tell you, since

Rusty arrived, we haven’t had a badger near the place.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.