Our Dachshunds - Part 4

Welcome, Duchess!

Getting over Molly’s passing was difficult – neither Thanksgiving nor Christmas were particularly happy times for us.  We always had the sense that she was missing – both literally and figuratively.  But 2011 rolled around and things got better each day.  Our four dogs were doing well and before we knew it, summer was upon us.

One day in July, I made a foolish mistake.  I looked at the DRNA website and browsed through the available Dachshunds.  I honestly don’t know why I do this to myself – I end up wanting to adopt them all as I cry while reading their stories and feel hateful toward the humans who caused them suffering.  I visit the site fairly frequently because I like to read the success stories and see the photos with “Adopted!” written on them.  It makes me happy to think there are good and kind people in the world who are willing to give needy little dogs a chance at a loving home and devoted family.

This time, it was different.  I found Duchess.  And I don’t know exactly what it was about her, but I was hooked.  Some people might say that it was her name, given my love of all things royal (ask anyone who has ever set foot in my classroom) and given our last name, but it really was her sweet little face.  She was a black-and-tan miniature Dachshund, and she was already 15 years old.  That sounded exactly like Molly, except Duchess looked nowhere near her age.  I emailed her foster mom to arrange a meeting, and C and I drove four hours on a Saturday through miserable heat and traffic to meet her.  Whether or not you believe in love at first sight, we were smitten.  We spent about an hour with her, and knew we wanted her to be ours.  We had plans to go out of town for two weeks, so we arranged to pick her up and bring her home once we returned from our trip.  We drove the four hours home asking ourselves if were we crazy for doing this, but kept coming back to the idea that although we can’t save every dog, we could save this one dog.

On August 13, 2011, we made that long drive again and adopted Duchess.  On the way home, I sat beside her in the back seat and she happily snuggled right into a dog bed and fell asleep.  We should have known then what a low-maintenance dog she would be!  We got home that night and she was immediately accepted into the herd.  Since that day, she has been content to snooze and eat and do not much else!  She had truly been a delight – she rarely barks, except when breakfast or dinner is being prepared, and that is really just out of excitement that she is about to eat!  She is the one dog that does not sleep in our bed at night; she prefers her own little dog bed right beside me on the floor.

Duchess is now 17, and we cannot imagine our life without her.  As I wrote about back in February, we had a bad scare with a spider bite, but she came through that with flying colors and other than a few little bald spots on her hind leg, you would never know anything had ever happened to her.  The fur that did regrow in that area is white, which is in stark contrast to her shiny black fur, and it is a good reminder of how tough she is to have survived such an ordeal.

So you are all caught up now!  If you’ve managed to stick with me through all four parts of the story, thank you so much!  No doubt there will be future tales to tell about our little canines, and I haven’t even introduced you to Max yet!  Max is my brother’s dog, who is part Pitbull and part Dutch Shepherd, and much sweeter and better behaved than our five miniature Dachshunds!

Happy Tails to you!

Our Dachshunds - Part 3

Goodbye, Marvelous Molly...

So for the latter part of 2009 and much of 2010, we were a five-dog household.  Things were going pretty smoothly, with one exception:  Molly did not like Chelsea.  At all.  She attacked her on a few different occasions, and we eventually took to separating the two of them at all times (if one was on the couch, the other was on the floor, they never ate near one another, etc.).  We never quite figured out why this was the case – Chelsea was indifferent to Molly, but for some reason, Molly felt threatened by Chelsea.  We finally decided that because Molly had clearly been the alpha dog in her lifelong relationship with Gunni, she did not know what to do when faced with another alpha…Chelsea had been an only dog for a decade and was used to ruling the roost!  Since Molly was completely deaf and almost entirely blind, it was not too difficult to keep Chelsea out of range, and we carried on like that until the fall of 2010, when Molly started to deteriorate.  She was moving quite slowly and had a lot of difficulty settling down at night; it became our routine for C to sit and hold her in his arms until she fell asleep – once that happened, she was out cold for the night.  That was such a sweet thing to witness each evening.  And it had to be him – Molly was not at all interested in me rocking her to sleep!

In mid-November, C brought her inside on a rainy Monday evening, and when she shook to get the water off of her fur, she fell over and howled in pain.  She was inconsolable and we had no idea what had happened, so we rushed her to the vet and our beloved Dr. T. examined her and put her on some anti-seizure medication.  We took her home monitored her closely; my mom came over each day sit with her while I was at school.  She seemed to be responding to the medication quite well and had a good week, so when we took her back for a check up the following Monday, Dr. T. looked her over and told us to keep doing what we had been doing and said that she was surprised at how well Molly appeared.  We told my mom we were in the clear and that she didn’t need to keep spending ten hours a day watching our dogs (what on earth would we ever do without my mom?!?).

The next day was Tuesday, November 23.  I went about my day as usual, and came home right after school because I didn’t want the dogs to be alone for any longer than absolutely necessary.  Things seemed fine for about the first half hour, and then right in front of me, Molly had a terrifying seizure.  It was the most horrific thing I have ever witnessed.  She was screaming in pain and her body was contorting into impossible positions.  And I was helpless.  The other dogs completely freaked out, running around her and barking and whimpering and it was all I could do to get them away from her.  The seizure probably lasted for 60 or 70 seconds, but it felt like a million times that.  Once it stopped, I picked her up and held her in a blanket while I called C, my mom, and Dr. T., in that order.  C said he would leave work immediately and meet me at the vet and my mom would come over to sit with the other dogs.

I put Molly in the car, crying hysterically, certain I would not be returning home with her.  When we got to the vet, C was waiting for us, and of course, Molly was thrilled to see him and was acting perfectly fine – so I seemed like a lunatic who had overreacted!  We were shown to an exam room immediately, and Dr. T. took her from us to run some tests.  When she returned, we knew it was not good news.  The difference in Molly from less than 24 hours earlier, when Dr. T. had last seen her, was evident.  She told us that we could take her home, but that that the chances were very high for Molly to have another violent seizure again, one that would likely take her life.  She was fifteen-and-a-half years old and we just could not see risking that kind of trauma for her.  Dr. T. told us there was bleeding in Molly's brain and that she had likely been experiencing extensive pain while the pressure was building. She also told us that it was just a matter of time before something awful happened.  We selfishly wanted to bring her home because we were not ready to part with her, but we knew we would never “be ready” to part with her and we did not want her to suffer in any way.  So I called my mom and filled her in and she said all of the loving things one needs to hear when faced with such an ominous decision, and we told Dr. T. we could not let Molly be in pain any longer.

She brought Molly back into the room and let us have some time alone to say our goodbyes.  We cried and hugged and kissed her and told her we loved her and that we wanted her to be free and happy.  We told her that Muggsi and Holly and Murphy would be waiting for her at the Rainbow Bridge and that she would be able to see beautiful colors and hear sweet music again.  We mostly told her how much we would miss her and what a gift she had been to us for those precious fourteen months.

After about half an hour, Dr. T. peeked in the room and we nodded.  Having experienced this before with Muggsi and Murphy, I was prepared to put Molly up on the table and stand beside it.  Dr. T., being the most incredible and compassionate vet on the planet, had another plan.  On the bench in the room, I sat holding Molly, C had his arms around me and his hands on Molly, and Dr. T. knelt on the floor so she was face-to-face with Molly.  Yes, that’s right.  She knelt on the floor so we could hold out little dog in our arms.  As Molly passed from this life on to her next great adventure, Dr. T. put her head on Molly and cried, too.  She then hugged us told us how brave we were to allow our love for Molly to guide our decision.  As she took Molly from the room, Craig and I were in awe of how someone who does this everyday could still be moved by the loss of a little creature.  The fact that she recognized what Molly meant to us and was so attentive to us, so gracious, so loving is why we drive more miles than necessary whenever one of our dogs needs care.  She is an amazing human being and the best vet we would possible ask for.  We will never, ever forget the kindness she showed us that day.

We each had our own car, so we had to drive home separately, which was trying.  Entering the house without Molly, with the other four dogs looking up at us expectantly, was difficult.  But the most awful thing was picking up Gunni and realizing she was now an orphan.  She had spent her entire thirteen-and-a-half years with her mother, and now she was alone.  It broke my heart to think about this, and Gunni spent the next few weeks wandering around and moaning for Molly before accepting in her own way that Molly wasn’t coming home.

The next day, Wednesday, was a half-day at school; the students were being released early because it was the day before Thanksgiving.  I did not want to go to school that day – I had cried most of the night and was exhausted.  However, I told myself that it was a short day and that I could survive it.  I was doing a pretty decent job of burying my feelings and operating on autopilot, but about 20 minutes into the day, one of my students asked if I was all right because I was being really quiet (apparently they are used to me bossing them around!).  This was at the point in the day when my homeroom students went into my partner’s classroom, and her homeroom students came to me, so there were 50+ kids in motion, coming and going and getting their things from one room to the other.  I told this student that yes, I was OK, but as soon as I said it, I started crying.  Sobbing.  Choking on the words that Molly had passed away the night before.  The students knew all of my dogs from the pictures around the room of them and from the stories I would share about them.  Without any type of direction at all, these sixth grade students formed a very long single-file line to each give me a hug and say something sweet and comforting.  Even the boys, who at that age, are often too cool for that sort of mushy stuff.

I loved (I do not like to use the past tense, but I am not currently teaching) being a teacher.  Didn’t always love the bureaucratic nonsense, but I loved being a teacher.  And I loved my kids.  Every single one of them, as difficult as they could be at times.  But I cannot think of a time when I loved my students more than when THEY took care of ME on that very sad Wednesday morning.  As I write this, I can picture their faces and the kind words they spoke to me.  How fortunate I am to have been their teacher.

The next (and final) installment in the "Our Dachshunds" series will be the story of Duchess.  Stay tuned!

Happy Tails to you!

Our Dachshunds - Part 2

How we went from one to five…

In 2009, we started to think about all of the dogs with no families of their own and realized that we had the resources to give a dog a great home.  I started looking at the available dogs on the DRNA website, and came across a 14 year old black-and-tan miniature Dachshund who was completely deaf and about 90% blind.  I figured that this dog, Molly, had little chance of being adopted, given her age and health issues.  I decided to fill out the application even though we do not have a fenced in yard, which is typically a requirement.  I thought they may overlook it because of Molly’s age and conditions – we wouldn’t be letting her roam around outside unsupervised anyway!

We received an email the next day and was told that Molly was part of a bonded pair that DRNA was not willing to separate…she had a daughter, Gunni, who was 12 and a red (brown fur) miniature Dachshund.  They had been together their whole lives and had only ever lived with one lady who unfortunately was placed in an assisted living facility.  The lady’s family did not want Molly and Gunni, so they surrendered them to a shelter.  Because of their age, they were scheduled for euthanasia because the shelter did not believe they would ever be adopted, but thankfully, DRNA was made aware of them and rescued them from the shelter.  This is why we think of Gunni as our “bonus” dog – we planned on one, but got two – and what an unexpected gift she has been.  So gentle and kind, and by far the best behaved of our herd.

We were asked if we would consider adopting both of them, and we only had to think about it for three seconds before we knew we would take both of them if we were approved.  Chelsea was almost 10 and had technically been an only dog for her entire life – although the “family” dogs were like her sisters and they had each lived with us for short periods of time as my mom moved from Pennsylvania to Virginia.  Still, we figured she would enjoy having two little old ladies to keep her company during the day.

We had a representative from DRNA come and interview us and do a home inspection, and we were nervous because of the lack of fence.  However, we think she was sold within the first few minutes because our kitchen is filled with Dachshund things and it does not take a trained professional to quickly determine that Chelsea lives like a princess.  We have about two acres of property, much of it wooded, and we live up on a hill with only four other houses, so there is very little traffic – a definite plus.  She also saw my personalized license plate, which is Dachshund-related, and that possibly put us over the top.  J

So we were approved and told that our timing was perfect because there would be a meet-and-greet at a nearby elementary school where DRNA brings the available dogs and the approved adoptive families to meet one another in just a few days.  We were very excited about meeting Molly and Gunni and asked my mom to come to the event with us, since she would be watching them for us whenever we traveled.  We had no idea how it worked, so when we arrived, we were quite surprised to see many dogs – I would estimate between 30 and 40 – all with their foster families, and about 30 adoptive families.  Most families did not know which dog they would be adopting, because DRNA wants to be sure that the family and the dog are a good fit, once they’ve met each other.  We were in a different position, because we were adopting a senior pair with special needs, so we knew we were there to meet Molly and Gunni and that no other family was “in the running” to adopt them.

When we met Molly and Gunni, we immediately fell in love with them.  We also enjoyed observing the other families meeting dogs, taking them for short walks, introducing them to the dogs they already had, and clearly favoring the one they wanted to adopt.  We kept seeing this one particular black-and-tan piebald (black and white and spotted – kind of like a cow pattern) miniature Dachshund who wagged her tail the entire time and went happily with any family who approached her for a walk or a belly rub or a hug, including us.  It was absolutely love at first sight and we actually began feeling territorial and annoyed watching other families interact with her for the remainder of the event!  We could not take our eyes off this dog!  It was so obvious that Molly and Gunni’s foster mom said to us that she couldn’t help noticing how enamored we were with this other dog and that she would completely understand if we didn’t want to take Molly and Gunni.  We told her emphatically that we would take Molly and Gunni, but the other dog was making us consider adopting three dogs instead of two!

In the meantime, my mom had found herself a little friend who sat in her arms with such a look of contentment on her face – like she had found her place in the world.  She was a red brindle (striped) miniature Dachshund.  My mom was already approved to adopt, as she had adopted both Murphy and Carmen, both of whom had special needs and the folks at DRNA knew what an amazing dog owner she is.

We were the last people to leave, and the foster families were gathering up the dogs to go home with them (no one gets their dog that day).  DRNA reviews which family wants which dog and makes a decision, after which time they arrange for the adoptive family to pick up their dog on another day when the dogs have not been subjected to so much activity and excitement.  Before leaving, the adoptive families were required to write their top three dog choices beside their printed name on a DRNA form.  Because we had just been approved two days beforehand, our names were not printed on the form and we had to add them at the bottom of the page.  My mom wrote that she was interested in adopting “Summer” and then it was our turn.  I was super nosy and scanned everyone’s choices and saw “Madison” listed as the first choice of many families.  Many, many families.  Enough that it caused an elevated heart rate while the possibility that we would not get her terrified us.  We wrote our names, listed Molly, Gunni, and Madison, and added a note that we wanted not one of these dogs, but all three.  We said goodbye to Molly and Gunni and told them we would see them soon – they were so calm and sweet and we couldn’t wait for them to be ours.  Madison was in her crate, ready to leave, and we went over to give her a kiss, hoping this would not be the last time we saw her.

On our way home, we talked about how great Madison was and how much we wanted her.  We knew the chances were slim – we had already committed to adopting two dogs and so many other families wanted Madison, too.  I wrote the most shameless email of my life to Madison’s foster mom within 10 minutes of arriving home.  Essentially I begged for her to select us.  I listed every positive thing I could think of that might convince her we were the right family for Madison.  I rambled on about what a great life Madison would have with us and about how much we would love her and how our family would be incomplete without her.  I am normally a very reserved person, but there was no holding back in this email.  We wanted her so badly.  I hit the send button and spent the next few hours thinking of more things I could have written and really did consider crafting a second email.  When I went back to the computer, though, a reply was waiting for us.  Feeling excited and terrified, I opened it and found a lovely response about how my email really touched her and that she knew we would be perfect for Madison and that she had selected us to adopt her.  To say I freaked out is an understatement.  I went racing up the stairs, yelling to C, “We got her! We got her!” in possibly the loudest voice I have ever used.

Fast forward two weeks, since we had been out of town for a few days and the school year was starting, and it was finally time to get them.  On a Friday night, we drove about 45 minutes to get Madison from her foster home – and in a beautiful coincidence, this same lady was also fostering the dog my mom was adopting, so my mom was picking her up at the same time.  We signed the paperwork and got our two little dogs and we could not have been more thrilled.  Madison was 4 and “Summer” – renamed on the spot as Ginny – was 1; we brought Madison – now called Maddy” – home to meet Chelsea and my mom took Ginny home to meet Carmen.

The next morning, we met the other foster mom to get Molly and Gunni, and suddenly we had four dogs in our house!  Things generally went well, although Chelsea seemed highly insulted by these strangers in her house.  It took her a while to warm up to them; she simply ignored them for the first week or so.

At my mom’s house, it was a different story.  Carmen was none too impressed with having a new dog in her house and made it pretty well known that she was not happy.  She knew Muggsi had been the alpha dog, but now that Muggsi was gone, she had moved up in the ranks and was not ready to share my mom’s attention or affection with another dog.  A second issue was that Ginny is a barker, and my mom lives in a condo.  Ginny barks at anything and everything!  She really had us fooled at the meet-and-greet because she didn’t make a peep the entire time my mom was holding her!  So between Carmen’s incessant growling and Ginny’s incessant barking, we knew something had to give.  And this is how Ginny came to be our fifth dog.  It worked out rather well, because we think Maddy was a little bored living with three older ladies who preferred sleep to all other activities, and having a loud, lively puppy in the house seemed to make Maddy extremely happy.  Unfortunately, Maddy had been used as a breeder dog at a puppy mill before she was rescued by DRNA, but the one good thing to result from that is her very maternal nature.  Having Ginny to look after was perfect for her, and she has taken to caring for Gunni as Gunni has grown older and more feeble.

So that is the story of how we came to have five dogs.  The next installment will include the story of Molly.  Until then…

Happy Tails to you!

Our Dachshunds - Part 1

Why Dachshunds?

In order to explain why we love Dachshunds as much as we do, I have to go back to Muggsi, who was our family’s first dog.  She was a black-and-tan miniature Dachshund.  She joined our family in 1995 and is solely responsible for our love our Dachshunds because she was such an incredible dog.  Due to immigration issues, I had to relocate to Pennsylvania and move back in with my parents and brothers after only eight months of marriage, while C had to stay in Canada and wait for all of our paperwork to be processed.  As you might imagine, I missed C terribly, having moved to a town where I knew no one. My parents worked all day and my brothers were in school all day, and so Muggsi’s companionship was priceless.  She was only five months old when I moved there, and although my parents wanted her to sleep in her own little dog bed in the laundry room, I snuck her into bed with me every night and returned her to her bed each morning before anyone else was up.  This went on for almost a year before I confessed, and by then, everyone in the house wanted Muggsi to sleep in their bed because we had all grown so attached to her.  She lived to the ripe old age of 14 and her death was a very difficult one for all of us because she was our first dog and had transformed us into a family of dog people.

Holly, another black-and-tan miniature Dachshund, joined our family in 1997.  Holly was very special because she was unfailingly kind.  Dachshunds have a bit of a reputation for being snappy, but Holly was the exception. Dachshunds are prone to back issues, and in 2000, when she was barely three, she ruptured a disk in her back.  This required extensive surgery, and as a result of the injury, she was paralyzed and completely lost the use of her back legs.  While this created some challenges for her, her very sweet disposition remained and she spent her time pulling herself around like an adorable seal.  We got her a cart (canine wheelchair), which she would use outside, but she wanted nothing to do with it when she was in the house.  She did not let the paralysis dampen her spirit or determination and although we tried all sorts of physical therapy for her, she never did regain the use of her hind legs.  Her tail, though, was another matter.  She wagged her tail nonstop before her injury, and it took some time, but a few months after her surgery, she started to wag her tail again.  Our family likes to say that she was such a happy dog that even paralysis couldn’t stop her from showing the world how joyful she was.

In 1999, my mom and I had traveled to Delaware to visit my brothers for the weekend (they attended boarding school) and we were at the mall.  This is the part I am ashamed to admit – we went into a pet store.  Knowing what I know now, I would never, ever, ever purchase a pet from a pet store.  We had also purchased both Muggsi and Holly from pet stores and I never understood puppy mills and the atrocities that result from them.  As the saying goes, when you know better, you do better, and we have chosen to adopt all of our subsequent dogs from shelters and rescue organizations.

That being said, the consequence of the pet store visit was that I brought my Chelsea home from Delaware that weekend.  She weighed 3.25 pounds and was just about the cutest creature I had ever seen.  Later that year, C got a job visa and moved to Chicago, with Chelsea and I following right behind him.  We ended up living apart for 4.5 out of our first 5 years of marriage, which is an incredible realization when I look back on that time.  While Chelsea had loved being with Muggsi and Holly for about ten months, she adjusted to life as an only dog very easily (read:  she was spoiled and absolutely enjoyed every minute of it).

In April 2004, my mom adopted an older black-and-tan miniature Dachshund who had medical issues from Dachshund Rescue of North America, named Murphy.  So for a few months, she had three dogs, which seemed like lot at the time!

However, Holly very unexpectedly passed away in June of that year – a blow to all of us that was extremely difficult to deal with.  She was only six-and-a-half, and while one is never ready for their beloved dog to leave them, this completely blindsided us.  Exactly one week prior to her death, my mom had been visiting and brought Holly to my school so my students could meet her.  She was so sweet with my students, and my last memory of her is watching my mom lead her to the car, Holly rolling alongside her with her tail wagging madly.  It is a very happy thought.

Murphy had a crooked hind leg that the vet said was the result of a broken leg that was never reset properly.  Apparently this is common practice at puppy mills so that the breeder dogs cannot escape.  Disgusting.  She had a difficult time trusting people, which is perfectly understandable, given her terrible life experiences, and she did not like being picked up by anyone but my mom.  When C and I watched her, we carried her around the house wrapped in a blanket inside of a laundry basket so she couldn’t nip at us.  Quite comical.  Overall, she was a delightful little dog despite her difficult medical issues and although she was only part of our family for 19 months, our hearts broke when she passed away.  We hope the love she was showered with for those 19 months helped to erase some of the horror she experienced all those years before she joined our family.

A month after Murphy passed away, my mom adopted a Doxador – a Dachshund-Labrador mix (don’t ask…we have no idea how that happened, either!).  Her name is Carmen, and she was rescued from a very abusive home.  She is fearful of almost everything, but has been a wonderful addition to our family.  We think she is about twelve years old now, and gets along with all of my dogs pretty well, which is good, because all six of them are often together when either my mom or C and I are traveling.

So at this point in the story, C and I still only have Chelsea, but that is about to change.  The next installment will chronicle those events!

Happy Tails to you!