I can hardly believe the car sick little puppy placed in my arms on Christmas Day, 2018 has turned into this handsome boy celebrating his 4th!!!! He has grown up to be quite the companion, although, I’m the only one that knows this. Visitors still see the Tasmanian devil barking like crazy as he is led away. I wish like heck he would realize we are not under siege here at Winterpast. He is a dog on high alert and all visitors are suspect.
VST wasn’t a dog person. Yes, weekly, he would hoist 40 pounds of dog food into the back of the truck for the two English Mastiffs that guarded the ranch. He put up with the littles named Iniki, Chloe, Freckles, and Barkley. But, never did he enjoy them like a dog lover does. They were tolerated. They were MY responsibility. That was that.
So, in the fall of 2018, when I had been pining for a dog because I finally had time for one, I was shocked when he said, “Let’s look.” Of course, with VST, looking was the mission with no end. Every town we visited while RVing was a source of investigation. SPCA’s. Humane Society’s. Craig’s List. Every town could have been hiding my new furry friend, but as the towns fell to the rear view mirror, there was no dog for me. This went on for months of miles.
My very first dachshund was Fritz who was a red miniature smooth coat who lived outdoors on our ranch. He was a superb watchdog. Nothing got by him. He slept soundly on a burlap bag by the back door, eager to great us each morning. He knew everything about the farm and things were in order under his watch. No feral cats, skunks, mice, or lizards too close to the house, Fritz guarded us. I was six when my dad and I drove to an old red barn to pick him out of a litter of four. Fritz was the fun one.
My mother wasn’t a dog person either. Not that we didn’t have dogs, just like every other ranch. She did tolerate Guide Dog for the Blind Puppies in her house. But she found no enjoyment in dogs. They added to the work of a farm wife. So, when she mentioned to my dad that we needed to go get a smooth red dachshund one day, I was shocked. Fritz was the dog I remember growing up with and he was a wonderful friend. One night at dinner, when I had aged out into a Senior in high school, I realized I hadn’t seen my grey-muzzled friend when I came home from school. Mom and Dad were a little quiet at the table. Fritz died earlier that day on the farm he loved so much.
Many people doubt Oliver’s heritage. A standard dachshund is a biggish little dog. His size is the first thing that throws everyone off at 25 pounds. Then, there’s the color. He is a cream dachshund. The spots? He’s a piebald (spotted). He’s cream with brown spots, not brown with cream spots. Then, there is the liver base, which gives him the brown nose and green eye color (not shown in the photo, because his pupils were wide open in the low light. In the sunshine, their green). The wire hair is another difference. All those things together, and people ask what pound he came from. Often.
Although he didn’t come from the pound, he was a discount dog. His relatives cost three times what I paid for Oliver. No one wanted him and it was getting close to Christmas. He waited for me and I for him.
What a ride it has been with this dog.
Oy vey.
At this point, he impresses me more very day with the words and phrases he understands. He will immediately understand ANY command for a cookie. He knows them all and will work ONLY for food. Pay up or FERGETABOUTIT.
He no longer chews on anything but his bone. He’s happy to sleep hours on end as long as it is at my feet. Oliver only cuddles at night and loves sleeping with me. VST, stop frowning. He doesn’t snore or hog the blankets. He just burrows under the covers and sleeps until morning. At 3:59, his intent gaze awakens me. Nothing interferes with potty time and breakfast at 4.
Oliver’s morning potty breaks are on pee-pads. He learned to use them when we RV’d with him as a puppy. On long trips, his bathroom breaks were quicker than mine. This is so great when preparing to get ready for work. It is also delightful when winter temperatures keep the snow on the ground from melting. Done with morning duties in under 2 minutes, we have that down to a science.
I don’t have any idea how many hours I’ve spent training Oliver. I know, on some days, I’m rather tired of being trained by him. I know that after three weeks of his intensity, he needs to go on Puppy safari and I need a break. There isn’t a chore that he ignores, making them more difficult by his inspections to make sure I have all the necessary items. Oliver is a watcher.
I wish, in his life, I could’ve provided him with a job. He would’ve loved being a drug dog or TSA suit-case checker. He would have been a grand termite finding hound or been the best on gopher patrol. On the ranch, he would’ve loved sleeping under the stars to keep the coyotes at bay. But, he is just Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall, keeper of the grounds at Winterpast. I mean, when your name is Sir Oliver, what else would one expect?
VST had been working on his genealogy the week I talked to the breeder about the strange little discount dog shown on website. I was having doubts about whether this puppy would be a good thing or a bad thing in Virginia City. We had no yard and 12 feet of snow in the winter. This puppy would be in the house 100% of the time.
“What’re you going to call him?”
I had not a clue.
“Here’s a good name. Sir Oliver of Ashworth Hall.”
He was named after VST’s relative from the 1600’s. That would do just fine.
I’m not sure how Oliver and I will celebrate this wonderful day. Lots of ear scratching and treats. He knows me better than anyone these days. He knows all my aches and pains and reminds me to get over them because it’s dinner time. He reminds me in the evening that unfinished chores can wait, but bedtime cannot. He loves me when I find myself unlovable. He is patient and considerate, until he isn’t, just like me. Yes. We’re a match.
VST, I’ll scratch Ollie’s ears for you. Sometimes I think he can see you sitting in your recliner watching over us. My sweet angel, thanks for the best Christmas present you could have ever given me. Like I told you then, it was the last one you ever needed to give me. Our little Oliver.
Whatever you do today, appreciate your pets. God was smiling when he decided to make dogs and cats. What wonderful little souls placed on this earth for no other reason than to love us and be loved in return. I’m sure glad they were part of God’s plan.
More tomorrow.