You know those days when you’re lying in bed, resting your paws, a bit bored because it’s raining outside and you don’t do rain… and then someone arrives unexpectedly and your day improves by about 150%.
Well, that was my afternoon yesterday when Grannie turned up to say hello. Oddly, whenever we visit my Uncle Bracken and Grannie, I avoid snuggling. Grannie has to chase me if she wants a cuddle. Mum has a theory about this. A few years ago, when I was a very young dude, the Parents left me with Grannie while they travelled up north and down south (I didn’t realise it at the time but they were thinking of relocating and going to live somewhere new), and since then I’ve always been wary when we go to Grannie’s in case they have any such plans again. So whenever Grannie tries to come near me, I make my escape!
When she visits us, however, I have no such worries. Bring on the cuddles, I say. And I wouldn’t say not to some of that Marks & Spencer chicken breast you have in your shopping bag. Yes, Grannie visits come with tasty perks.
Word of wisdom for new pup owners: introduce us to the Family early on. Those first few confusing and overwhelming days are when we’re soaking it all in. The bonds we form then are fierce.
The Parents, intuitively getting this, I guess, decided that Day Two was a good time to meet my Uncle Bracken (more on him later) and my Grannie. Grannie is the reason I’m here, which is why she’s getting her very own post. Ask my Mum about her thoughts on getting a dog and she’ll tell you that she’d always intended to adopt. Why get a puppy when there are hundreds, thousands, of dogs out there waiting for homes? (I’ll come back to this at some point as it’s something I can’t even begin to understand. When it comes to dogs being ‘unwanted’, humans mystify me.) Then she met my Dad, and off she went to meet his Folks and their brood of canines in Ireland, and discovered that, at some point during adulthood, she’d developed an allergy to dog hair. This was not a good discovery. (Ed: no kidding.)
So the Parents did some research and decided that, when the time was right, they’d get an allergy-friendly miniature schnauzer. (Adopting becomes a bit trickier when you have specific criteria on size and non-shedding credentials.) Only first Grannie wanted to get a dog. And Grannie only wanted to get a dachshund. A black and tan smooth haired adult dachshund, if we’re being precise. Cue my Mum searching online around the country – a search that led her right back to Scotland, to a dachshund ‘breeder’ who also takes in rescue dachshunds. Wisely, she wants to meet people before even contemplating sourcing a dog for them, so off the Parents trotted with Grannie to meet her.
As an aside, the ‘breeder’ had one wirehaired pup from a recent litter – my Uncle Bracken. Grannie didn’t want a pup. She didn’t have the energy, she said. But she met Uncle Bracken and that was that.
Isn’t he handsome? I’m constantly in awe. And he had the same effect on the Parents. As he barely sheds my Mum, thankfully, had no issues. Which led them, seventeen months later, to me. (I don’t shed at all.) So I wouldn’t have been here if it hadn’t been for Grannie. We have a great relationship: she adores me and I grouch at her and then run away, knowing that she has no hope of catching me. As you can see from that first slightly anxious looking photo above, back on Day Two, I was just working this out.