Having owned three dachshunds by the time Baxter came into our lives, we thought we were prepared for the challenges Baxter would present. This time, this dog, we vowed not to fall victim to every dachshund's spell of enchantment, the clever ability of a wiener dog to cloak his naughtiness in a cloud of cuteness. We would be firm yet loving, gentle yet encouraging. We would provide rules and leadership, yet give him the freedom to learn about the world around him, one sniff, one lick, one bark at a time.
Preparing for Baxter's life at our home was pretty simple. A thorough cleaning of those things Baxter would inherit from his granduncles. A new bed, a new leash, a new bowl. A
snoozer to make his travels in the car with us a peaceful joy. Food, carefully picked to ensure his digestive health. Wee wee pads, til dog and humans alike figured out what their routine would be.
The one thing we hadn't much thought about became clear the minute we took him out into our backyard wonderland. With
two senior dogs who were blind and barely mobile as Baxter's predecessors, it didn't matter that snake obscuring leaves had piled up along the perimeter of our fence, didn't matter that the some of lattice work on our deck had come loose and fallen into the creepy spider filled under zone. But these were all things that now piqued the interest of this young dog, ready to explore his new back yard.
Raking was easy, but neither I nor dad wanted much to mess with the lattice work that we knew was necessary to keep wandering noses out of where thought they shouldn't be. Not only was it creepy and spider filled, but the area that needed fixing by the deck stairs was a tight fit for humans that would make rehammering the panels a contortionist's nightmare. Setting back the women's movement a hundred years was a price I was willing to pay, and thus a few feeble excuses later, there dad was, Yosemite Sam swearing in frickum frackum rackum sackum style, hammering splintery brittle weathered lattice work back into place.
In the first few months of Baxter's life with us, the rabbits in our backyard hadn't quite gotten the clue that a new dog was in town. They had become accustomed to peacefully grazing while we took Kep and Padua out back to do their duties, loved to stretch out in the dark coolness of the deck underzone on hot summer days. Before the lattice work had completely fallen, we could tell the rabbits made themselves a permanent hangout because they had enlarged a hole in one of the lattice openings. A hole big enough for a rabbit and not much else, a hole by the stairwell, in the piece of latticework that dad had just barely put back up.
The complacency of our backyard rabbits meant Baxter was almost certain to flush a bunny out in his early hunts, and the day that dad fixed the latticework was no exception. Baxter flushed his quarry from the azaleas and trailed the rabbit, yip yip yipping, little legs furiously trying to keep up with this thing that most certainly was awakening the sleeping giant that is his inner dachshund.
Baxter and the bunny must have done a couple of figure eights around the yard before the rabbit decided an alternate course of action was required. The rabbit took a chance and bolted into the lattice hole, hoping to escape this barking menace. Surely, we figured, Baxter would stop at the lattice barrier and the chase would end. But without even a moment's pause, Baxter barged right in, crashing through the repaired lattice work like a football team breaking through a banner when it comes onto the field. Twenty minutes of hammering, twenty minutes of cartoon swearing, gone in an instant.
The remains of the lattice work trailed out from under the deck like little dust clouds as Baxter and the rabbit made their way back out into the yard. The chase finally did end after a gap in the fence allowed the rabbit its proper escape. Baxter, happily panting, trotted back to us with tail pointed high and bobbing proudly in the air, no worse for wear and exhilarated by what had just taken place. There would be no turning back, we realized, for this pup who now discovered his life's calling. Rabbits beware, our little kielbasa may be a gentle soul, but he is and always will be a dachshund, spunky at heart, bold and daring.
