My St. Patrick's Day Dog

My first house dog would be 28-years-old today, March 17, 2023. She was a red, standard-sized dachshund from a show dog family raised by breeder Jacquie Girrens Schwab. Her life with me lasted 11 years and nine months. I named her Lexy. 

Like with many doxies, her back legs went out. It was a tough time for me until three months later when we decided to get another doggy. Sure, we had Pepper, my step-daughter’s toy rat terrier, but I missed Lexy and the dachshund personality.

Dan the Man with his two-toned eyes

So the day before what would have been Lexy's 12th birthday in 2008, 15 years ago now, we drove five hours one way to get a dog. A rescue dog. Not one that would enter burning buildings, sniff out drugs, or therapeutically fix a lonely person, although he did do that for me, but the kind that needed a home.

His paperwork said Daniel, and he was almost 4-years-old with a birthday of May 12, 2004. I renamed him Dan the Man. And a little man he was. What a precious creature. I’d found him on PetFinder.com. Had to send in a few references and the name of my vet, Mike Herndon. 

I love telling how I found this dog because that’s how I found my husband. Online. Picked him out too because of how he looked. I am that vane.

Dan the Man & Pepper in Dec. 2011

After Lexy’s passing, Chris had seen how sad I was without her. Read more about that here. Not even an early Christmas present of “Gilligan’s Island” DVDs cheered me up, so he agreed to get another dachshund. Thus my search began. We took Pepper with us when we traveled on that chilly spring break day on March 16 to make sure the two canines would get along.

Dan the Man looked just like his online picture, but nothing like my Lexy. His body was shorter and stockier. He enjoyed squeak toys and would sometimes bring them back to you. Most times, Lexy didn’t mess with such foolishness. She was all red; he was black with patches of red, cute ones on his little butt. His bulging eyes of different colors warmed my heart. 

in June 2015

But last May in 2022, the day after his 18th birthday, we put him down. It’s as though he knew I wanted him to reach that ripe age. When he awoke that day and tried to walk, sometimes his back legs  tucked under him. He slipped on the non-carpeted floors. His face seemed to droop at times. And he let my husband Chris do anything with him. Something he normally didn’t allow. I knew the time had come. 

A couple months prior, Dan the Man had been diagnosed with kidney issues by our vet Monica Moore at Sisters Veterinary (they took over Herndon’s after Mike’s passing). For food, he didn’t like his normal stuff, which I’d begun soaking, for many teeth had been pulled throughout the years. After two doses of the moist canned food, he refused to eat it. 

holding him the last time 

My husband said, “You cannot let him not eat! He’s hungry!” So we gave him whatever he seemed to like of people food. Chicken from Benny’s, Sugar Corn Crisp, toast. If he was really hungry, he’d eat that soaked old dog food of his. He never was a big water drinker compared to my first dachshund who I raised from little on, and who knows, maybe that contributed to his kidney issues. You cannot make a dog drink, or take eyes drops, or force a toothbrush in his mouth.

We put him down on Friday the 13, so fitting for such a sad time. Prior to his passing at the end of April, we’d gotten a mini-Australian Shepard, Chris’ breed of choice. I insisted we get her because I foolishly though having another dog around might bring Dan the Man some joy. No such luck. One look at Dixie and in the house he went. He was never mean to her. Just tolerated a wild 2-month-old puppy. 

So like Lexy, whose last few years were filled with jealousy of a husband and step-daughter, Dan the Man's last few weeks of life were not pleasurable. For this, I feel bad. But I will never feel bad about giving a dog a good life. And Dan got just that.

He loved the pavilion in the backyard. His little nose would constantly twitch taking in all the smells of the trees and flowers. He'd sit nearby as I graded papers, read, wrote, and spoke on the phone. As he aged, his walks were shortened to the railroad tracks and back. Sometimes he’d actually run! Ever seen an old wiener run? Hilarious. His tongue would hang-out to the side.

Dan was a stately fella though, rarely huffing and puffing. Lexy didn’t do that either. There’s something almost aristocratic about a wiener dog. It’s a juxtaposition of their silly-shaped body and their solemn, dignified face. Since he was all black, the heat would bother Dan, and I’d have to force him in the house some summer days.

In retrospect, I think Dan the Man lost his will to live after we put Pepper down. They didn’t really play together anymore (they used to chase each other in the backyard, prop on the couch like cats, and stare out the window) but often sat in the doggy basket side by side. He grew anxious and sniffed by the door until he stained it and the hardwood floor due to his dripping nose.

dogs who act like cats

If I’d make a trip to family in South Dakota, he’d go on a hunger strike. Chris bribed him with spaghetti sauce otherwise he would not eat. After Dan the Man’s passing, I realized that with Pepper gone, it was the first time in his life he didn’t have another dog around. That was traumatic for him, poor fella. Maybe he was remembering his pre-Harris days.

When we’d gotten him from Seven Bell’s Sanctuary in Cole Camp, Missouri, I learned the details of his life. He’d been a breeder’s dog and they sold out. Another breeder bought him. That breeder decided he was not needed, so that person’s vet got in contact with Judy from dog rescue. She had him only a few days until it was time for him to get neutered. He returned to her for a few days, and then he went into doggy foster care because Judy had an operation and couldn’t care for him for awhile.

Seems that within 30 days, this little doggy had been living with four, if not five, different people! What would a child be like if that was done? So yes, Dan the Man had his issues. So did Lexy, by the way -- read about those here.

He liked baths, which we were told he hated. He was scared of thunderstorms, but at first he wasn’t. Not sure what triggered that. We tried dryer sheets, meds (but you have to give them well in advance of a storm arriving), aromatic diffusers, and a Thundercoat (a 40-dollar dog tuxedo that wrapped him tight). He was quite the special needs dog.

on his 18th birthday

After his first morning here, Dan the Man was scared to death of Chris. He'd run outside dropping turds along the way if I wasn't around. After a few days of this, I thought Chris would make me return him. We called Judy and she encouraged Chris to get on Dan’s level. Yes, down on the floor. So he did. He’d give him treats, people food, whatever it took to get him to come closer. And it worked. Probably contributed to Dan the Man’s rotten teeth. But I'll never forget the love my husband showed in doing whatever it took, so I could keep my new doggy.

Chris gets Dan the Man to trust him

I was proud of the little fella, told stories about him, and put pictures of him in my punctuation and grammar lessons for school. Students during this time most likely heard me sing the Dan the Man song.

As the years passed, he lost his hearing – no more fear of storms! He had cataracts and a growth near his bum. I knew the end was near, and we’d been discussing the next dog. I was shocked when my husband said in mixed company one time, “No more dachshunds.” I was heartbroken. 

After a few days, I heard my dad’s voice telling me to get the type of dog that Chris wanted – after all he’d put up with Lexy’s jealousy and Dan the Man’s neediness. That breed was a mini-Aussie. So we start another house dog story with Dixie and her antics. I’m sure I’ll write posts about her too.

showing off in December of 2014

And even though today is Lexy’s birthday, I chose not to write about her because I’d never gone public with the details of Dan the Man’s passing the day after his birthday. It was due to Lexy and those before her -- Pooch, Frisky, Hitchcock Boy, and Jupiter – all capturing different parts of my heart that I’ll always want a doggy around. 

Don’t ever let the love you have for a pet stop you from getting another one. You are not replacing them. You are giving a living being a home. A lifetime of memories. A lifetime of love. Your heart has room.

Things My Dog Ate & Survived

My first house dog would have reached the age of 20 this past St. Patrick's Day. For a dachshund, that would be astounding.

The elongated creatures are a loyal and lovable breed, for who doesn't love the occasional, "Hey, it's a wiener dog!" But these fur kids are prone to back problems and overeating. And eating is something my dog loved to do.

Lexy with my siblings.
Top left with Priscilla, Brenda on the right, and with Elliott, lower left.

All of Lexy's bad habits were my fault. Diving for food, digging in purses, ripping papers, chewing woodwork. Not a pretty thing for a canine who came from a line of pure bred show dogs.

But I will take credit for her friendly, unabashed nature too. She never feared anyone or anything. She had no reason to. I raised her from the time she was a puppy after getting her from Jacquie Girrens in June of 1995.

To honor her memory this year, here's a lighthearted look at some of the things Lexy ate during the 11-plus years of her life.

Corn on the Cob
Lexy grabbed one out of my brother-in-law Rick's hand when he was teasing her with it at my sister Brenda's house. Lexy gagged on it, and I had to reach down her throat and pull it out. I gave Rick a piece of my mind as he did me about keeping her around the table. But Rick's a dog lover, so I don't hold it against him.

Lexy rests as Rick and I play chess.

Butter
She'd jump up on chairs if we didn't push them in. If Priscilla, my other sister who was Rick's wife, had butter on the table, Lexy would eat the entire stick if we didn't stop her in time. Result: loose bowels.

Pizza
Again, we didn't push in the chairs, so at my step-daughter Brittany's 13th birthday party, Lexy joined in and gobbled some pizza. See, I told you. These were all my fault.

Chocolate
Don't worry. We got her to vomit and she was okay. When I found an almost empty bag of chocolate in the hallway at my sister Priscilla's, I knew what had happened. Lexy had been snooping around in a bedroom where Pris was storing wedding supplies for her son's reception. We called a vet, and they told us what to do so she would foam and then expel it. So we waited. And waited. And waited. And just about the time we were going to load her up and take her in, up it all came. PTL!

Mom keeping Lexy out of the junk pail.

Pantyhose
Yes, I used to wear them under my pants. Had to keep warm somehow on cold bus rides during basketball season. Lexy managed to find the nylons and eat the legs. All I found was the waist and butt part. My vet, Doc Mike Herndon, told me how much and how often to give her the goopy black toothpaste-looking stuff that acted as a stool softener. I kept it on hand because of all the stuff she'd get into. Then Doc said, "You need to dig through her poop and puke to piece the pantyhose back together again, so we know all the pieces are out of her." I did that with a big stick. This happened twice. You'd think I'd put them away so she couldn't get to them. Again, all my fault. This is why I do not baby sit.

Lexy & Pepper eye-ball Chris' cereal.

Chewing Gum
My friend and colleague Joyce Foley came for a Longaberger party at my house. I usually took Lexy to my neighbors, Jack and Betty Tracy, when I'd have such events, but Joyce had come later, and I already had the wiener girl back at the house. We went into the kitchen, and when we came back out, Lexy was busy chewing up a wad of Big Red gum from Joyce's purse. She did a similar thing when I stopped for a minute to deliver something to my niece Evelynn. When I came back, Lexy had managed to get into my candy and gum and some Advil. The bugger knew how to unzip bags!

Poop
Yes, her own. It's not as uncommon as you might think. I had to give her special pills so she would quit doing it. It was embarrassing when she'd do it in the front side yard. The behavior is called coprophagy. She liked horse droppings, silage, and trash cans too.

My life with Lexy was full of crazy events like this, and I loved every minute of it. For a more serious read on my time with her, read the post called The Loss of a Pet.


What are your house pet's habits? Have they eaten anything weird?

The Loss of a Pet

Our little black wiener dog honored his predecessor today. He napped on her grave under a tree that commemorates her. It was as if he knew this was the anniversary weekend of her death.
 

Dan the Man soaking up the 70 degree November sun in Kansas

Seven years ago, I put down my red dachshund named Lexy. She was eleven-years and nine-months old, a little younger than most of the kids I teach. Her back legs went out, something that happens to a lot of wiener dogs due to their elongated bodies and the strain on their spines.

I had raised her from the time she was a puppy. Trained her to ring bells to go out and potty. In a month, she had it down. Later that summer, my niece Jessica helped me train her to walk on a leash by enticing her with food.

Lexy, named after a South Dakota weather forecaster Lexy Hickok, arose at 5:50 am every day when I first got her back in June of 1995. I wanted to sleep in—it was summer. So one day, I said, "We're going back to bed," and I stuck her under the covers with me. That was the last time she slept in a cage. Then I got married, and she slept alone in a doggy bed.

Lexy and Dad nap ~ Summer 1995

One can imagine the pain of losing a house dog who is a constant companion. My dad said he understood when I told him I cried over Lexy’s death more than I did Mom's.

Shortly after my dog's passing, fellow dog lover Kaitlin Nance, a former student of mine, gave me the book, For Every Dog an Angel. For anyone who’s lost a dog, the words will not seem silly. I knew I wanted another dog; I just wanted to wait until summer time when I could give it my full attention.

Lexy ~ Tank, Kaitlin's dog ~ Pepper in July 2007

But I was. So lonely.
I missed Lexy. So much.

Guilt over all the changes during her last year of life did not help me. I tried to enjoy Pepper’s company, but it was not the same. He was not Lexy. I would walk Pepper at night and just bawl. I bought an iPod to drown out my thoughts.

Some suggested I should get a dog right away, others said I better wait, yet others said maybe I should not get another one—ever. After all, we had Pepper. In addition, I feared my new husband would not want another dachshund after the way Lexy behaved at times. But I wanted one. Another one. Another dachshund.

Lexy's second Christmas in 1996. She did not like that doggy coat.

My husband saw my sorrow, and three months later in March, he drove me five hours one way to get a dog from a rescue. It was a black and red dachshund I found on petfinder.com. His papers came with the name Daniel, but I wanted a fresh start for this little fella whose story I will tell some time in a future post, so I renamed him Dan the Man. He’s my little love who teaches me about patience and kindness in a way no human can. 

Dan the Man with me in May 2012

How does one move on after the loss of a pet?
It is tough. So tough.

Give yourself permission to mourn. How do you do this besides tears? Create a special memento of your pet. Mine is a box full of pictures and a journal full writings. In fact, that’s when I started writing consistently again. Lexy’s death in 2007 caused me to return to my default mode. In that journal, I wrote messages to her.

Lexy with me on the last day of her life.

Also, realize the time to grieve is different for everyone. You might choose to never get a pet again. Only you can make that decision, but do know that you are not being disloyal to the one you lost if you want another companion. My time ended up being three months because I could not stand it any longer.

One day at lunch, my friend and colleague Jill Weber said, “It helped my mom when she got another one." Her words gave me permission to make room in my heart for another dog.

And room I had.
Dan the Man’s spot is right beside Lexy’s, and today, his resting on her grave confirmed it.

saying good bye

How have you dealt with the pain of losing a beloved pet? What did you do to cherish the memories?