The email to us had a subject line that said "Doxie 69244 in need of rescue!" It came from Ashley D., the foster coordinator for an SPCA in Davis, California, that had sent us a number of disabled animals over the years. Ashley wrote, "I know it's a long shot, but no one else can take this sweet boy because of his age." She wanted to know if we could possibly take him.
It was December 4th, and we had taken all the animals we were going to take in 2008. What's more, the Dachshund wasn't disabled, but "just" old. Hmm.
We viewed the photo Ashley sent and he looked just like Bailey. Alayne and I looked at each other.
Hmm.
Oh, boy.
I asked Alayne, "Well, what do you want to do?"
Now, when it comes to Dachshunds, this is like asking an alcoholic, "Would you like another drink?"
She hemmed and hawed.
"He looks just like Bailey," she said.
"I know that," I said.
Silence.
"So … what do you want me to say?", I asked.
"I don't know."
Hmm.
Then she allowed, "Well, it would be nice to have another Oscar."
Ever since we lost our little beloved Oscar last March, Alayne has missed having the ultimate minion's minion … he was our miniature Dachshund who worshipped Alayne and who never missed an opportunity to "protect" her from me.
I said, "It's your decision."
She hates it when I do that.
But I call her "Madame Nyet" (Russian for "no") because she is the one always (wisely) holding the line on our animal numbers.
She walked out of my office. She came back. She walked out again.
Finally, many hours later: "Yes."
The next morning I emailed Ashley to say we'd take the little guy.
It turned out his mouth was a complete wreck, full of rotting teeth. Before we could arrange his travel, one of them started to abscess. Ashley had taken him home with her to wait for his trip to Montana, and when she told us her concerns about his dental needs, we told her to go ahead and take him to the vet for oral surgery and that we would pay for whatever he needed. The vet removed several teeth, including most of his canines, leaving him with the occasional snaggle-tooth look.
Then, once he had recovered from the surgery, Montana sank into weeks of subzero weather … and it became too cold to fly him out here from Sacramento.
While we waited on the weather to improve, Alayne had already named him: Dexter T. Dickens.
Today, a month to the day after we said "yes," we flew Dexter into Missoula via Seattle. I picked him up at the airport this afternoon.
Back at the ranch late this evening, he greeted everyone with a happy tailwag.
Blind Goldie sniffed at him and looked up at us with a look that said, "Oh. It's another Dachshund."
The blind Beagles checked him out and said, "Oh. It's another Dachshund."
Because he didn't exactly meet our criteria for disabilities, we decided to assign him one — an affliction common to Dachshunds. It's called CSH, or Canine Selective Hearingitis.
So please join us in welcoming "deaf" Dexter to the ranch!
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