First thing I did after moving into my first house in 2004 was to get a dog. I searched the SPCA, intent on getting the smallest dog, which turned out to be a 19-pound black-and-tan dachshund mix already named Susie. As all the big horse dogs barked and jumped excitedly begging me to spring ’em from the joint, Susie was the only one who was solemn, laying belly down on the cement ground, her head on the floor and brown brow patches moving curiously like she thought she’d gotten herself into a pickle. An attendant took her out of the cage to greet me. Surprised to be chosen, Susie wagged her tail and appeared ready to go, as if she’d been waiting just for me. I paid the fee and drove her home in my car. Soon as we arrived, Susie shot out and ran into the backyard, bouncing in the grass, smiling with glee, happy to finally be free.
I’ve never had a dog like Susie. I cannot walk her on a leash because she pulls hard, like she’s on a mission, sniffing out critters alive and dead or thrown away foodstuffs. She is the only dog I ever had to enroll in obedience school which both of us, dog and master, had to attend. She only learned one lesson, to sit at my loud and stern command. And she never got the position quite right, but we compromised with her laying belly down with head up and alert to my command, awaiting a treat. I read about dachshunds and found two things: Dachshunds are indomitable, and they won’t stay in a backyard. To their minds, the whole world is their backyard. In other words, Susie’s nature was to get out of the fence and explore. During most of her life, she did this many times, exhausting my husband and me while the neighbors got to know her name well and be on the lookout, too. We learned to always check the yard for her newly dug holes to crawl underneath a wood fence. We’d plug them with large rocks, bricks and heavy cement blocks. Still, Susie was strong enough to move them or dig other holes to plan an escape.
She remains a nuisance whenever we come home or anyone else enters our house. She enthusiastically jumps on people, demanding a greeting and attention (one of the reasons I took her to obedience school). We figured she was lonely and eventually brought home another SPCA dog, only to find Susie if not restrained jumps on anyone coming in the house. It’s friendly of her but bad dog. We’ve taken her to the city’s small dog park where Susie designates herself the official gate greeter to other dogs. All the weenie dogs gather around Susie, encircling her in either familiarity or admiration for her impressively large size. We call Susie ‘Queen of the Dachshunds.’
Whenever we’d find that Susie had escaped the backyard again, my husband and I walked the neighborhood yelling for her. I’d have her leash in hand in case of capturing her once again while my poor husband drove all around, windows down while calling her name. There is a nearby creek that probably attracted her. Many nights, after I’d let her out back before bedtime, we’d find she’d escaped. One foggy evening, I walked all around the neighborhood streets, calling for her, very angry spending my time this way and having to hold an umbrella so my glasses wouldn’t get wet. By the time I had given up and was returning to the house, Susie was walking right beside me. I didn’t realize it till we were close to home. Damn dog.
Don’t get me started on her annual trips to the vet where more than one assistant has to be called in to hold Susie while her nails are clipped. The vet took to muzzling her because she tries to bite anyone restraining her, wagging her tail merrily all the while. Having gone through this ordeal for years, the vet scolded me, “Haven’t you taught her ‘NO’ yet!?” Hell yes I tell her NO several times a day, but this dog don’t mind. She minds her father better than me probably because of his size and deeper voice.
During those first months of house training, I got Susie to use pads in a specific area of the house. But some evenings when we were watching a movie or working on the computer, Susie would pee intentionally near us, I suspect as a domineering act because she was looking straight at us while doing it. We’ve learned to listen to her growls and beware of her jumping dominance as a sign she needs or wants to go outside.
And wouldn’t you know it? Susie was determined to sleep on the bed with us, like any other person. For the first two weeks with Susie, I tried training her to sleep in a kennel outside the bedroom. Nothing doing. She wouldn’t stop whining, barking, growling all night long. I moved the kennel into the bedroom; then tried to train her to sleep on a pallet beside the bed; consented to allowing her to sleep on top of the bedspread but stay at the foot of the bed. She wore me down from lack of rest and insisted on sleeping between us with her head close to our pillows. Sometimes I’d awake in the morning to her snout facing me, brown eyes staring at me. Wonder what she’s thinking?
Killer dog
Unlike my previous dogs—cocker spaniels that enjoyed playing with squeaky toys and could fetch balls—Susie always would gnaw the squeak out of any toy and commence to destroying each and every one. She’d start by ripping off the tail, legs, arms, ears and any pointed appendages for some reason. Susie’s a natural born killer. That first year we had her, in the wee hours of the morning she constantly ran off the bed into the kitchen chasing what turned out to be a rat. She was alert but not quick enough and would return to bed. It took several months of interrupting our sleep, but Susie won: finally trapping the rat in the mud room between the kitchen and our bedroom. The rat was terrified hiding behind the dryer. Susie hovered and waited. When the rat bolted, Susie snapped it up horizontally in her jaws, shaking it dead, leaving tiny blood splatters all over the place. She grinned with pride and the taste of blood.
We called Susie our wolf hero and presented her a framed certificate for killing the house rat. Susie would go on to kill again and again: squirrels, mice, roaches, grub worms, a black feral cat, a raccoon her own size … and unfortunately one of our own dogs. Susie always thought tiny dogs were playthings; we realized this at the small dog park when she wanted to play too rough with tiny dogs that people held in their arms. But one time at the creek, we took in an abandoned mini chiweenie with long red hair and green eyes, still with puppy breath. We realized we’d have to keep the 5-pound pup separate from Susie for awhile. Naming her Chelsea, we let her outside with our other dog Tommy to play and grow strong. Susie would watch intently through the backdoor window, whimpering wanting to play with them. After a couple of weeks, I allowed the three dogs to play together, carefully monitoring Susie to stop any roughness.
Eventually the little pup wanted to get stronger and play-fight with Susie. The two ran wild in the backyard and played very rough and tough, toppling over each other, forcing the other down to submission while growling and play choking the victim which would quickly return onto legs and ready for another go. Susie lost some weight with all the exercise. They were inseparable for a few years until Susie grew old. Chelsea was 5 and becoming more dominant, always attacking Susie by jumping off the bed to knock her down. Susie didn’t want to play rough anymore. Besides, Chelsea had sharp teeth and was prone to biting. One night Chelsea got into a big knock-down drag-out fight with Susie. The two would not stop fighting each other. It was horrible and hard to stop. Things changed between them. A year later, the fight between them erupted unexpectedly late night in the backyard. Susie won. We were mortified, heartbroken, and very angry, not knowing what to think about Susie anymore. A few days went by as she moped around like she’d lost her best friend, her Daddy. I asked her softly, “Why, Susie? Why’d you kill Chelsea?” She opened her mouth like she was going to tell me then realized she can’t talk. The vet said dogs are not like humans; the bloodlust is always there.
Stop cloning around
Susie celebrated her 15th birthday this month. As always we sang “Happy Birthday,” presented her with a good meal of salmon and potatoes, gave her a pink frosted dog cookie, some duck meat chews, and ice cream for dogs. She grabbed the container by her teeth and pranced into the backyard away from the other dogs with the same treat and holding the cup between her paws proceeded to spend the next five minutes licking the cold peanut butter contents under the Texas sun.
Despite her zeal during preparation of each and every meal, Susie has slowed down considerably. I think her bones ache, so I started adding a supplement to her morning meal. She’s only had one surgery, years ago to clean wounds and sew her up after a dog fight with a much larger and stronger German shepherd. I doubt Susie sees or hears well though her sniffing sense seems intact. She can be heard snoring throughout the house as she sleeps very soundly. Her naps can last most of the day except for interruptions by our other two dogs. Sometimes she has a mild stomach sickness I suspect from eating grass and other things in the backyard. Often she looks at me confused. She enjoys going in the backyard, lying on the grass right under the sun, which probably is healing and soothing to her. She can’t walk on a leash as fast and as forcefully as she used to. Halfway through a walk, she just stops and lies down. Still her heart is good, and she’s been given a clean bill of health at her annual checkups.
We know Susie’s years with us are numbered. As a longtime dog owner, I’ve made the heart-wrenching decision to put a beloved pet to sleep when they’re in ill health, in pain, and very old and frail. However, in this brave new world in which we live, dogs are being cloned, at $100,000 a pooch, mostly for billionaires and major stars like Barbra Streisand. For someone who has played strong female characters, one would think the superstar could handle life after the death of a beloved pet.
Would I clone Susie? Nope. One dachshund has been enough for me. She is either a breed or a dog who wore me out with her stubborn streak and bullying ways. Yet I love her dearly. We’ve been through so much together. She’s a much better dog now that she no longer needs or even tries to roam around the world. On her 9th birthday, I created a card with graphics from her presumed past lives such as a bull, a walrus, a hog, a snake, a donkey, an ape, a bucking bronco. I wrote “The many incarnations of Susie. You go dog!” And she has for six more years.
Pet parents must come to grips with the fact that we outlive our pets and must be able to deal with it. It is their nature and our grief. And doesn’t nature already reproduce more than enough dogs and cats to fill the grieving hearts of humanity? So why is cloning dogs necessary? The breeds are practically identical. The most humane action pet lovers can take after the death of a beloved furry friend is to go get another one or even two. Maybe this is the reason God made sure dogs and cats would be reproduced naturally in abundance. They’re everywhere to be found. Just waiting for love.