Oscar Wilde, the Rescue Dog

This post has been edited with updates about the current status of Oscar Wilde, the hot dog.

The first ‘big’ purchase my husband and I made after we were married was an eight-week-old miniature dachshund.  He was adorable and we fell in love with the breed immediately.  Over the years I have ‘owned’ several little doxies, though, in my opinion, one can never really own a dachshund.

They were all so different in their personalities but the one thing you can always count on is an incredible amount of energy!  So, when I rescued Oscar, I was surprised at his apparent lack of said energy.  Hence the name:  Oscar Wilde.  An homage to my strange sense of humor.

According to the vet, Oscar was between four and five years old when he came to live with me.  And I was assured that there was nothing physically wrong with the pup.  He was just very laid back.  But it became apparent right away that he had been abused to some degree by someone.  He was cautious with me, but he was afraid of men.  My adult sons had to make friends with him every time they came over.  After a lot of work on their part, he has finally decided they are okay and will sit on their laps and sleep.  He has only recently wanted to come out at family gatherings and be with the crowd.  He’s mellowing, I think.  He now loves company and is quite indignant when he is not allowed right away to join the party! He will now seek out one of my sons to get their greeting pats on the head.

Oscar hid from me the first time I scolded him.  Even a slightly raised voice terrifies him.  I learned right away that he had to be treated with kid gloves.  That has not changed.  If, for some reason, he gets his feelings hurt, it takes some serious work on my part to repair the damage. 

Oscar Wilde came to me with some good manners.  He is housetrained, though he will use puppy pads if necessary.  But he prefers to go outdoors, letting me know when that time has arrived.  If truth be known, he has actually trained me well to know when he needs to go out!  If I don’t get the hint, he comes and stands in front of me and stares intently until I ask if he wants to go outside, to which he dances and runs to the door. “Finally!” he seems to say, as he heads out to his favorite spot.

Neither does this little jewel beg for food, which most definitely is NOT a typical dachshund behavior.  He does, however, sit quietly and wait in case some morsel is dropped, not staring but relying on a sneaky side-eye to watch the goings-on.

After much coaxing, we finally convinced him to play, but those sessions are few and far between these days. He prefers to snuggle into one of his beds and snooze He is, after all, getting to be an old man.

He has toys but he does not play with them with the usual dachshund abandon.  His two favorite stuffed animals are stashed away in his hidy-hole in the closet.  And no one had better touch them! They are his and he is very protective of them.  He recently became very indignant when I moved them to clean and did not put them back in their exact place.

He is a sweet little dog, and everyone loves him.  I cannot imagine what kind of monster could treat such a defenseless animal so cruelly, so as to make him distrustful and fearful of everyone.  I have had to prove myself to him, over and again.  It has taken a while.  

In the beginning, he spent most of his time in his crate.  Of course, when he first came to live with me, I closed him up at night, not knowing his habits.  But, during the day, the crate door was always open and he was free to roam.  But I would often find him there in his crate, asleep.  Or simply lounging.  It was his security, I believe.  Perhaps, a crate had been his whole world before.

Slowly, he began to venture out, and soon he was sleeping on my bed.  At the foot.  And he didn’t want to snuggle.  That was so unlike any of my other dachshunds.  But he has come a long way;  he has taken over my bed now and made it his own!  And he snuggles now too.  (We have progressed:  the crate is in the garage and is no longer needed, not even when we travel.)

Apparently, he decided a long time ago that I am his human.  He follows me from room to room as I work.  He has beds in every space so he can make his nest and sleep while I work.  Usually, he buries himself so deeply in his blankies that the only thing visible is his little black nose.  Sometimes not even that.

There are times when he pops out of his lethargy.  When someone comes to the door, he alerts me with a round of maniacal barking.  He knows his job.  This also happens when he goes out into the backyard for his morning and evening constitutional.  And to patrol.  He simply must rid the neighborhood of any intruders: cats, mailmen, children!  A stray bird or errant squirrel. It is his duty! When he deems that we humans are safe for a few more hours, he prances back to the house with a spring in his step, quite proud of himself. Even in his advanced age, he is still sprightly and maneuvers the back steps with no problem. We’ve been lucky that he has not developed some of the problems dachshunds are prone to.  We have taken the cushion out of his favorite chair so he doesn’t have to jump far.  And he has a step so he can get on the bed easily. And, even though he gives me a very dirty look at times and pretends he is starving, he is on a pretty strict diet.  Dachshunda are prone to weight gain, especially as they age.   So far, Oscar Wilde has managed to keep his youthful appearance!

He has been a good companion for me.  He is not demanding.  And he likes to travel.  He travels well.  After the first excited frenzy of realizing he is ‘going’, he settles in for a long sleep!  I appreciate that.  And to show my appreciation for being such a good pup, I have spoiled him to a ridiculous degree.  But why not?  I think he deserves it!  Our pets give us back so much more than we give them, I think.

I am not certain what I will do when Oscar’s time to leave me comes.  But we are living on limited time.  He is, after all around fifteen years old. I can say in the present that I will never have another dachshund, but I had said that before he came to me.  In fact, I said ‘no’ repeatedly to my best friend, who knew of him.

“You need this dog,”  she kept saying.  To which I kept replying, “No.”

“Just come see him,” she coaxed.  So I did, knowing in my heart that I could still say no and go home dogless.

That, of course, is not how it played out.   As my eyes fell upon the little black and tan pup, I fell in love.  My friend leaned in and whispered, “He needs you…”  I did not go home dogless.

She knew what she was talking about.  Oscar and I needed each other.  My friend thoroughly believes that sometimes an angel comes into our lives in the form of an animal. They come to help us, or serve us, or to save us.  I think she may be right. I hope I have helped Oscar Wilde as much as he has helped me. And I will enjoy every moment I have left with him.

Do you have a pet that you dote on?  I’d love to see a picture of your little darling and hear your story!