Winnie the Poop (dedicated to anyone who loves a dog)

I grew up around dachshunds but never owned one.  After we officially entered the "empty nester" stage, my thoughts ventured to a puppy ..... which defies ALL good sense and logic... possibly bordering on insanity.    

I tried "rescuing" a beagle-dachshund mix which, after a few months, didn't work out.  A year later, I tried a chihuahua-dachshund mix (also a rescue) which didn't work out either.  (Seeing a theme here?)  I won't go into the reasons for my failures but they were legit and different with each, and I did my best to find good homes for them.  I then swore off dogs forever.

Several years later and after moving into our current home, in spite of my fear of a third failure, I began to feel it again .....   

This time I wanted an actual full-on dachshund.   (Any dachshund owner who might be reading this, gets it.)  I had tried the rescue route.  I mean, I really tried.  Finding a non-mixed version of this breed at a rescue shelter is very unlikely and with my fence-less yard, I wouldn't qualify anyway.

I eventually found what appeared to be a reputable (and affordable) breeder up near Seattle.  After several email exchanges and waiting till the proper age of eight weeks when it's safe to separate puppy from mother, we drove north to get this ...........  

See??  Prepare to be dragged against your will into dachshund-obsession with me.

Meet Winnie.

She weighed all of four pounds and spent much of the six-hour drive home burrowed between my neck and the headrest.  (Dachshunds are burrowers.  Even now, if you lean forward on the sofa at our house, you will soon find a small dog wedged behind your back.)

Admit it, this is CUTE.

All too aware of my apprehensions, Dear Supportive Husband assured me that Winnie is OUR dog, and that he would help.  And he did.  In fact, today they are BFFs.  HE is the one who wants to bring her along wherever we go.  But as it usually goes, I make sure she's fed, vaccinated, bathed, bedding washed, nails trimmed, walked, and all poop cleaned up.  He plays with her.  Therefore, he's her favorite.  And I'm okay with that.

On the motorcycle.  (Her seat is the backpack, shown below.)

... and on the kayak, in her life jacket with the handy grab handle.  We've never needed it, since she avoids water anyway. 

One evening recently, when Husband was out of town for a few days, Winnie heard a noise outside.  (She ALWAYS thinks she hears noises, which 99.9% of the time, is only me clearing my throat .... or something equally benign.)  Noises send her careening out her doggie-door to confront any intruders.  This time though, she thought it might be HIM and so she went to wait by the door in the laundry room where he always emerges.  That night though, he didn't.

Naturally I texted him this picture.  

Squirrel alert, in the camper.

Nowadays, when we go out in public, she attracts the same baby-talk-goobers that I used to be.  (Still am.)  Winnie adores the attention and would happily go home with any of them and not look back.  She quickly learned that Home Depot employees are potential dog-biscuit-carriers and greets them all with great expectation.  If they don't deliver, she can lay on the guilt like nobody's business.  (See laundry room picture above.)  And you should see her at the Dairy Queen window after experiencing her first "pup cup".  (It's a thing.  I didn't make it up.)  Now she thinks ice cream will magically appear at every drive-through, including banks and toll booths.

I have become one of those people who must resist the urge to foist my pet on others and feel I owe apologies to all those dog owners who had to endure my own goobering over their pet in years past.  All the same, I cannot help but love when people love my dog, and wonder about the heartlessness of those who don't.

Winnie lays claim to any blanket she finds.  She also LOVES wiffle balls, especially the one out of reach under the sofa .... and will whine pathetically till somebody gives in and retrieves it.  (In the video below, the string tied to the ball makes it much easier to get it out from under furniture.)

Dachshunds are smart.  It amazes us how much and how quickly she learns, even unintentionally.  Example: We are in and out of the house all the time, but she KNOWS when we are actually planning to go somewhere when she sees me pick up my purse.  At that point, she hovers and frets so that, if we are THAT heartless to leave her home alone, we WILL feel the guilt.  

(Had to toss this one in.)  Toenail clipping.  She's not a fan.

Her first trip to the beach.  

~~ Warning-- cliches and sappy ending ahead ~~

She's a nuisance (aren't we all sometimes?) and a joy.  In a few weeks, it'll be two years since she burrowed into our hearts.  The third time did indeed prove to be the charm.