Adventures with Suzie

The problem with dogs is that they don’t live as long as we do. They come into your life and win your heart with their unconditional love.  They don’t get mad at you, or resentful. They don’t judge you or boss you around (most of the time). They are onboard with anything you want to do, wherever you want to take them. No matter what, they love you. Then you watch your canine friend’s body slowly failing, and you face the cruel responsibility of ending their suffering.

Today I held Suzie in my arms as we said goodbye to the little dachshund with a big personality. She pushed her nose under my arm as she always has to calm her fear of the vet one last time, and answered us with her little grunts as we let her go.

Suzie was a scrappy red head with a mysterious past. A lady never tells her age and we never really knew hers—12 years old? We were her fifth family. She came to us in a roundabout way that I detailed in a blog post: Hot Dog! http://starklooseends.blogspot.com/2010/06/hot-dog.html. She was a bit of a high maintenance diva who was notorious in our house for getting herself into situations that made us scratch our heads.

One thing that consistently got her in trouble was her appetite. If you were in the kitchen, she was under your feet praying for food to drop from above. She was so quick, food wouldn’t even touch the ground before she was chomping on it—meat, carrots, whatever you were working with.

Describing her as “not a picky eater” is an understatement. One day I discovered a half-eaten raw potato that she dragged from the pantry. Another time she ate most of a book. We asked her, “Really Suzie? We don’t feed you enough?” She just wagged her tail.

She was hospitalized twice for poisoning herself. Once for eating chocolate covered coffee beans in a bowl on a table. Once for unzipping the zippers on a backpack, chewing through the childproof bottles, and scarfing down headache medications.

She had no qualms about pushing her way in to eat our big dogs’ food. She cowed 85-100 pound dogs into surrendering their kibble. Yet, as brave, or brazen as she was with them, she was terrified of the vacuum cleaner.

Suzie had no idea that she was a little dog, and believed she was capable of doing big things. Because of the way they’re built, dachshunds are prone to back problems. She would insist on sitting up on the couch with us playing the role of a lapdog, but then also be just as insistent about jumping down. She had no patience to wait for us to carry her down. That resulted in her breaking her front leg, minutes after we boarded a plane for Milan, Italy.

Would you like to sign my cast?

Our son had to take her to the vet, and then dog-sit her confining her to a playpen with a pink cast on her leg. She wasn’t happy about that.  For that matter, neither was our son.

Another time while my husband was walking her and our German Shepherd/Lab mix dog she spotted a rabbit, yanked the leash out of my husband’s hand and gave chase through the woods and blackberry bushes.

Suzie, John and T-Bone walking in the park.

True to her hound dog roots, she was baying the whole time. The only way we got her back was for my son to get his car and rev the engine near the park. She knew the sound of his car and came to it, little legs pumping and ears flying in the wind trailing her leash behind her.

Dachshunds have a reputation for being stubborn, but I don’t think it is stubbornness. They are ruled by their noses and their ears turn off if they are on the scent of something—like a rabbit.

Another dachshund trait that held true for Suzie was burrowing. She liked to sleep totally covered. She would toss her blanket up in the air with her nose to burrow under it to sleep. If you let her into bed with you, she would burrow under the covers to sleep down by your feet.

Dachshunds also like to get into tight spaces. They were bred to tunnel into underground dens to catch badgers. Once they got the badger in their teeth, their owner would get them and the badger out by pulling the dachshund’s tail. They are tough and fierce, and that’s where their stubbornness to hold onto a mean badger was a positive trait.

One night we let Suzie out into our wooded backyard. When we called her, she didn’t come in. That wasn’t unusual. The problem when Suzie disappeared was that her first owner was abusive. She must’ve been punished for not coming when called. Sometimes when you called her, she thought she was in trouble and would get very quiet and hide. Eventually she would come out.

After awhile though, she still hadn’t come to the door. We started looking for her. Maybe she’d gotten through the fence. She’d done that a few times. If she’d found a mole, she’d dig with all four paws and her mouth like a miniature backhoe with legs. I was annoyed. It wasn’t easy getting over a 6-foot fence to get her back. But we couldn’t see her in the neighbors’ yard.

We walked the neighborhood with flashlights calling her and shaking her treat jar, and then got in cars to search for her. Hours passed. Before we went to bed we decided to look in the backyard one more time.

We have an old “shed” with four sides and a tarp for a roof. There was firewood stacked along the inside of one of the walls. John walked near the shed calling her name and heard a tiny whimper. He went inside the shed and at the bottom of the 3’ woodpile, he saw Suzie’s tail just barely poking out. She was so relieved and happy when he pulled her out by her tail.

We think she was going after a rat and got trapped. I don’t think she would’ve survived the night because the temperature got down below freezing that night. The next day the shed was cleaned out. From then on, Suzie was supervised when we let her out.

As tough as she was, Suzie had her girlie side.  She got cold easily. She knew where all the heating vents in the house were and snuggled up to them if there wasn’t a human available. We bought her sweaters and coats to keep her warm.

She always got excited about her new outfits, and would sashay like a super model to show them off. People got huge grins on their faces watching her strut her stuff through the neighborhood in her pink down jacket with fur-lined hood.

Her wardrobe included several Halloween costumes that also cheered people up.

She was most definitely a morning doxie and would start the day off doing what came to be known as “the happy dance,” when we woke up. She was simply happy to be alive and starting a new day. The happy dance was usually followed by a good wiggly back rub on the carpet while I brushed my teeth.

She hated the rain and would hug the dry ground under the eaves of the house when you let her out. But she loved the beach, and didn’t mind getting her paws wet there.

Suzie exploring the beach on Lummi Island. 

She was a great little traveler and companion on road trips.

When our two new young dogs joined the pack, she easily stepped into the role of alpha dog. They were at least twice as tall as she was, but if they started getting too wild, the old lady of the house would leap (watching a dachshund leap is hilarious) at them and try to nip them. “Knock it off you whippersnappers!” They listened to the grand dame and either calmed down, or took their craziness elsewhere.

Suzie’s life had a rough start. She got shuffled through four other owners: the abusive one; the elderly lady who taught her how to walk beautifully on a leash, but had to give her up when she moved into a nursing home; the family with the other dachshund that she didn’t get along with and misinterpreted her submissive peeing as obstinance; and the young lady who loved her but didn’t keep her.

Most of Suzie’s life was spent with us. The first time I went to walk her it didn’t go well. She tried to bite me. But Suzie and I had something in common. I’m stubborn too and eventually persisted until she loved me.

The last few years she had Cushing’s Disease and was on medication for it. Recently, she had seven teeth removed, but ultimately, her kidneys were failing. She fought through most of her health problems like a champ. She was amazingly adaptable and resilient, a good sport who took changes in stride. She loved living with us where she learned how to be part of a pack and got along with two cats as well.

Kona and Suzie snoozing.

Watson and Suzie napping.

Suzie checking out the food bowls between Jake and Watson.

Suzie welcoming Pippin when he was a kitten.

I will miss her quirky personality, her bright eyes looking up to me, her unquestioning optimism that there could be treats at anytime, and her warm wiener body snuggled up against my leg while I write on my laptop or watch TV.

Kona checking up on her buddy Suzie.

Thank you Suzie, adventures with you were epic! You made our lives interesting!

Laura Keolanui Stark can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com