Random musings; and dachshund matters
Tuesday 11th October 2011
I have 2 mini-Dachshunds as regular readers might know. Rupert, Senor (senior) Dachshund, who is almost 8; and Arthur, his little half-brother who is almost 3. Dachshunds are odd little dogs. I also think they are quite addictive, charming and, at times, incredibly exasperating. To be fair this is just Rupert.
Rupert is clever. Well, he’s smarter than Arthur. Arthur, bless him, does not have the smarts, but he was right at the front of the ‘good looking’ queue. Rupert is in fact less clever, more
cunning. Despite some serious health issues and several bouts of surgery, he can, when food is the goal, achieve athletic feats that ordinarily he’d refuse and anyway, I would never permit. Rupert, remember, is the dog who scaled a bean-bag and a book case, in a sealed room, to steal, eat and then be separated from, later at the vets, a
chocolate Easter egg. This is the dog who now the apples are falling – and boy have they fallen this year, a bumper crop from all 4 massive trees – sprints out each morning to snaffle a juicy apple and scoff it down before I can catch him. So every day, I schlep eleventy-hundred apples off the lawn and borders, to try and stop this gluttony. Yet, he knows that come the dawn, more will have fallen…it’s an unequal battle.
Last week, I made some pie-filling and left it to cool, on what I assumed was a Rupert-proof spot. I took a phone call in the hall, about 2 meters from the kitchen. In that instant, Rupert was off his bed, onto a chair, onto a table and from there, a dresser. To reach the food. I came back in, only to see Arthur innocent but still anxious, because he knows this is bad and he fears he may be implicated, scuttling away, while Rupert, Senor Dach, just glances at me and only accelerates his speed of eating in order to neck down as much as possible before I snatch it away, scoop him up, scold and ground him. He looks at me sideways, with a sly and knowing face. He is thinking: why? why take it from me when you know that what is left must now be thrown away? Why not just give it to me, eh?
When I scold him, and despite family legend that I don’t, I
do scold him, he sulks. He actually turns away from me, not just his face but his whole body. Some hours later, when my wrath has cooled,
I end up apologising to
him. Hmmm. When Arthur, puppy-gorgeous and tiny, arrived, Rupert being then 5 years old, Rupert did not speak to me or scarcely even
look at me, for several weeks. In my office, Arthur would roll about on the huge double Dach-bed I prepared and gaze with love and longing at his brother, while Rupert would lie with his nose pressed right into the crack of the closed door, in what must have been a very uncomfortable pose, with his back-side firmly pointed at me. Calling, cuddling, petting, fussing – all only made him more implacable.
He did come round, but my, it did take weeks.
They are also stubborn and vocal. However, they are such loving dogs, so loyal and funny, as they bustle about, a metaphorical clip board under a metaphorical arm, pencil behind ear, checking everything is as it should be. In the mornings, they patrol the boundaries of the garden. It’s a big garden and to a Dachshund, legs 6 inches long at best, it’s mahoosive. Rupert leads, Arthur ever the follower, like elephants they scoot along the paths, monitor the gates, venture through tall grasses and flower beds (eat apples), until they are satisfied that, for now, all is well. Our garden is at above-pavement level. The lawn and borders mainly end at about shoulder-height to the pedestrians outside. Concealed behind a thick hedge, 2 Dachshunds can cause grown men to
leap into the road, small children to shriek and weep, and other dogs to perform hysterical acrobatics, when my boys unleash a volley of sharp yapping right into the ears of the passers by, at head height. I have been forced, for my sanity and that of the village, to install tall fences in the worst areas of the garden. I’m not joking.
Anyway, here are some gratutitous Dachshund shots:
This is Rupert, dozing in my arms, on the evening of the pie-filling incident. And this is the pair of them:
Roo in the front, saying: yeah? wanna make something of it? With Arthur behind, saying: love me! please love me! I do, I love them both.
Other musings. You know you live in rural Somerset when there is a van that lives in your village bearing the legend: Elver Nets Made To Order.
And finally, this made me laugh so much (or it would have, had I had any breath to laugh at the time). At the recent Sportive in the New Forest, we cycled slowly, for it was a lengthy hill, past a chap who was competing in the ‘Fun Cycle Race’ – still 40 miles long – with his 2 teenage daughters. One was stoically grinding her way up, the other needed some encouragement. Dad circles back to her and says, in a good natured way: come on love, get it into the middle ring (a gearing reference). Daughter, with no raised voice or much bitterness and more to herself than him: I could be at home. I could be watching telly…I could be at home. I could be watching telly…
This is Rupert, dozing in my arms, on the evening of the pie-filling incident. And this is the pair of them:
Roo in the front, saying: yeah? wanna make something of it? With Arthur behind, saying: love me! please love me! I do, I love them both.
Other musings. You know you live in rural Somerset when there is a van that lives in your village bearing the legend: Elver Nets Made To Order.
And finally, this made me laugh so much (or it would have, had I had any breath to laugh at the time). At the recent Sportive in the New Forest, we cycled slowly, for it was a lengthy hill, past a chap who was competing in the ‘Fun Cycle Race’ – still 40 miles long – with his 2 teenage daughters. One was stoically grinding her way up, the other needed some encouragement. Dad circles back to her and says, in a good natured way: come on love, get it into the middle ring (a gearing reference). Daughter, with no raised voice or much bitterness and more to herself than him: I could be at home. I could be watching telly…I could be at home. I could be watching telly…
They are BEAUTIFUL dogs. I love dachshunds. They have so much spirit and pluck! Great little dogs. I think your two are super!
Oh, I love Rupert and Arthur! My first dog was a black and tan Doxie named Helga. I was crazy about that dog.
I had much actual lollage at this post, my love! x x