Oscar Wilde, the Dog, Not the Poet

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.  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 several years 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 loves the great-granddaughter and she is so amazingly sweet to him. 

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.

After much coaxing, we have finally convinced him to play, but those sessions are few and far between.  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 distrust and fear 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 just lounging.  It was his security, I think.  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.  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.)

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 little 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 just has to 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.

He has been a good companion for me.  He is not demanding.  And he likes to travel.  He travels well.  After the first excitement of ‘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.

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