I Blame Stan

Hello to all you Dachshund Fanciers out there! I hope you are all well and have a warm wiener dog burrowed in your lap while you read my first attempt at Blog Writing….be kind…lol

As I was pondering what should be my first subject, I decided to make it easy and just start at the beginning…How I came to own my first Dachshund….

I am going to blame it on Stan. Stan was a scruffy little red dachshund mix that my husband and I found on a property we were renting after we married. Stan was approximately 3 months old, my husband was mowing at the back of the property, and this little bag of bones with a long body and legs about two inches tall came out from under a bush whimpering. This pitiful little puppy had fleas crawling through every patch of his thin fur, his eyes were crusted half shut, and every rib showed through his skinny little body.  

I picked him up, and my heart immediately melted away. My husband saw the look on my face and yelled “NO!”, and I said…”Then run him over with the lawn mower and put him out of his misery (Knowing my husband would never do such a thing), what do you want me to do?” I told my husband the puppy probably wouldn’t last through the night, and the least we could do was make him comfortable for his passing.

I named him Stan because my husband kept saying we couldn’t keep him. So, I would sing the song lyric….”Make a new plan, Stan. Don’t need to be coy, Roy.” Haha! Anyway, the name stuck, and he was our constant companion and friend for the next 15+ years. He brought so much joy, love, and entertainment to us with that long body and that bossy little bark, and when we had to let him go, we were both devastated.

One night about six months later, my husband came home from work and said, “This house is too dang quiet without a dog in it! Find us a new puppy…and make it one of those long ones.”

And so it began…