Snickers, Roodie, and Dumplin' lived together their entire life. They were so funny, like a Dachshund version of the Marx Brothers almost. While I was photographing other dogs, they were into everything in the studio, or else wandering into a shot of other dogs, like "Hey! Look at us!"
And when it came time to have their photographs made, it seemed they couldn't get comfortable on the cloth backdrop. Like all Dachshunds, they liked to make a "nest" to settle down in. So once I threw an old blanket on the floor and let them arrange it to their satisfaction, things went fine.
They had long happy lives, and made lots of people smile. Roodie (center) was the last one to leave, having lived to be eighteen-years-old.
I have fond memories of them.
I love Dachshunds; my very first dog was one. This is the only surviving picture I have of him. He was a pound pup, and came to me in Christmas of 1951, already named by the folks at the county pound as "Fritz." He was my constant buddy when I was growing up, and was a "chick magnet." My future wife thought he was great, as did I.
Quigley was a rescue, turned in as a stray at the vets where my daughter works. He had a bloody cigarette burn on his head and so much scar tissue, that we had to have surgery to remove it. He loves us, but trusts nobody. Can't say I blame him.
Annie celebrates the arrival of Spring.
Our rescue pup, Fiona. She has A LOT character!
