This week Nicholas and his sister, Tiggy, celebrated their second birthday. Joy was unconfined, gifts were opened and then furry dollies of various kinds were exchanged and energetically ratted, with Pupkin and the rest of us trying to get a look-in whenever we could. How extraordinary that so much time has passed since that tiny soul entered our lives and ate his first tiny meal from one of Jeoffry’s china bowls. His little wrinkly forehead and wrinkled legs endeared him immediately to the rest of us – the big boys – whom he took completely in his stride, dachshunds being fearless and, ounce for ounce, among the most courageous creatures in the animal kingdom. Just the sort to fit well into our family of outdoorsy extroverts.
The chance meeting with Nico’s litter sister when they were six months old, and the fact that she lives only a short way up the coast – a truly remarkable quirk of fate, given that they originate from Lincolnshire – brought further joy and regular get-togethers into our lives. It’s now as though we have two dachshunds (three, including our beloved Pupkin) in our otherwise gundog pack. Tiggy and Nico, perfect young dachshunds, are vigorous, physically strong and outgoing; dachshunds love to be held and give affection, but they also love to sniff and search the outdoor world, pursuing the shrews and voles our human family members can’t see beneath the greenery. They are real all-rounders, hardy and adaptable.
We did a lot of research – about the breed itself and about breeders – and waited for over a year before Nico came into our lives, which is just what happened for Tiggy, too: after their birth and babyhood – marked by our travelling a long way south to see them – eventually they were old enough to leave their natural mother and begin the childhood journey to the young adults they’ve now become. Nico’s and Tiggy’s very existence was, therefore, carefully considered by their breeder before their parents were selected and our responsibility to them as owners and family was seriously undertaken when, at eight weeks, they trundled into our lives; little individuals we looked forward to getting to know as they started playing with toys we knew we’d have to share, just as the retrievers had shared theirs with me when I came along.
Now that there are more and more dogs in last-chance saloons of various kinds and, increasingly, folk thinking of getting a dog make a rescue dog their first choice, there is a growing popular notion that choosing a pedigree puppy is some kind of self-indulgence. They overlook the significance of the fact that too often it is indiscriminate, ill-advised and downright pernicious breeding that lies behind the majority of dogs being abandoned, abused or sickly. It is important to know your breed; to know what you can expect from the breed you go for: that a dachshund will be a better guard dog than a golden retriever, for example, and that that means more noise! We have very close connections with golden retriever rescue, the Dogs Trust and indeed Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, whose work we support, and it always remains a possibility that we would give a home to a dog whose owner has died or can no longer look after him. But, for us, nothing can replace bringing that much-loved puppy home in one’s arms and then seeing what he has in store for us. One of life’s greatest joys – and privileges. Happy Birthday, Tiggy and Nico!