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Leave a bone for Oscar Revisited
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Osci, Ostitee, Oscu, Timbergulu Puppy
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January 10th 1989
Food, couch reign and zoomies, and, of course, having his way
Not having his way. Not having every morsel food available.
Oscar wasn't big on toys. He was either busy being curious, zooming or sleeping.
Anything. A total piggie.
The woods or any nature walk. He was houndy and loved woodsy terrain.
If you howled "timber puppy," he loved to scream back :)
Well....I really wanted a third dog because, simply put, I love dogs. Couldn't quite justify a third large dog already having steel hard GSD Pogo and Doberman Flo, the queen of drama, so I knew it would need to be a smaller breed. Given my fixation on hard German breeds, it....natch...was a Dachshund - the hound with the 'tude. I selected Oscar quite specifically because he barked at me, demanding attention, as soon as I walked in the room. At the time...youthful idiocy...I felt sure that meant he was a Dachs with a strong personality, not realizing at the time how thoroughly redundant that was. I guess I was a big German dog snob within the moment and feared ending up with a little dog too basic or boring. As if a Dachshund could ever be such a thing ;) He was a doll when I got him home but there was this look in his eyes, an impish suggestion to his affect oncoming, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if there would be heck to pay once he learned to manage the stairs and claimed full reign of the house. If perhaps this was the lull before the storm. It was, and for the next fifteen years lived under Dachshund rule :)
Total culture shock, I was used to highly trainable German dogs, focused on the master, driven to please. Well, my dears, that is NOT a Dachshund! Used to slower maturing dogs, I thought Oscar was in a phase. Nope. That's IT. That stubborn, self assured, defiant "phase" IS a Dachshund FOR LIFE. I never could train the little spicy sausage, quite prideful I guess from years of studying to train harder German dogs, so rather than challenge myself, I looked the other way more often than not. He would be eight....yes, I said EIGHT....when he learned how to sit - took me five years to even be able to tell that he WAS (or was not!) sitting for how low to the ground he was. He periodically would get strutty in front of my wonder dog Pogo, who being the gentleman he was thoroughly ignored him, which would lead to Oscar being one of only two dogs I have ever had de-testicled....simply because I thought putting noble Pogo through that was outrageous. But Oscar was just being a Dachshund....full of himself, in charge of the world, answering to no one but his own echo. And for fifteen years, he would be a grand friend despite making a mockery of my dog training skills. Like every Dachshund, he loved the sound of his own voice, but UNLIKE every Dachshund, he housebroke readily and was rather tolerant of other pets....he wasn't keen to befriend any of them, but for a Dachshund I'd say he was a pretty good joe, and indeed like making new acquaintances. He was a MAJOR zoomie zoomer....never a day went by without mad dashes through the house coming from out of the blue....and he loved to sleep under the covers, as all Dachshunds do. He would show a surprising wisdom when he was not well, turning very sweet, cooperative and trusting with me. He was an exemplary patient, and for all our training debacles, it was then I knew we were a bonded team, for he relied on me and worked with me gorgeously, and always seemed keen to what was going on. And that was pretty feel good....this breed is LOTS more insightful than you might think. He alas, went the way of many Dachshunds, starting to show the first signs of calcified discs when he was six or seven. He had several major crises, including one that landed him in full hindend paralysis. That was very acute...one yelp from another room and the use of his hindend was gone. Fortunately, he did not require surgery, did well on steroids, and got the use of his hindend back. Unfortunately, he had to spend the last few years of his life relegated to his crate...he was getting weaker by the year, and being in a multiple dog household was dicey as he could not dart quickly out of the way. Simply getting bumped put him in a couple of back crises. Fortunately for me, he loved his crate, he loved his space, although I let it go longer than I should have. It can be a hard call, however, for this is, despite its popularity, a very hardy breed and other than the back Oscar was very healthy and slow to age. I do wish his closing years could have had more dignity, but Oscar was a good sport and a kindly knowing soul right to the end. In every year of our life together, I never would have said anything less. He never knew a bad mood, put up with my inept training, was very loyal, and was an endlessly inquisitive madcap adventurer who never had a shy moment in his life. Truly a dog of high style, he pulled me through the ringer and I have missed him dearly every year since he has passed. A memorable tyrant and friend :)
My Sage Little Dynamo
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