OTTO
4/15/1998-11/17/2008
Otto was a tax day baby – son of Isabella and Ira – one of 4 in the litter of 3 boys and 1 girl (Mimi is still here with us)
We knew right off he was different – when we’d sit on the floor and play with the others, he’d run in the opposite direction. Shyness, not a good thing in a dachshund, was Otto’s main fault; earning him his registered name: Two Dogs Long Otto Shy Guy ml
With his long, flowing black & tan coat, he was very handsome but remained on the website for a long time. No takers. He’d always follow me around the kennel and runs when I’d clean and poop scoop. Never making a sound, he made his presence known when you’d stop – he’d wait patiently for some hugs and kisses. After awhile, any inquiries I’d get on him just never seemed “right”. A family with children (with his shy personality, they’d scare him to death!), or a couple who were dismayed that he wasn’t housetrained as an adult! Every inquiry I got somehow became a home he’d not be happy at.
Finally, my mom summed it up – “you’ll never find a home good enough for him, you might as well keep him.” This made sense. So, Otto was neutered and joined the house crew. He was housetrained in a month actually with ease - such a good boy. He always loved his grub – the first in line at feeding times, and one of the best vacuum cleaners around! Crumbs didn’t get by him. He may be quiet not real energetic, (we’d joke that we better pick him up and move him around the house at times) but let him see food, and you’d think there was greased lightening in here.
You’d hardly know he was in the house – he’d go behind the couch to lay or chew rawhides, which he loved. He reminded me of Eeyore – kind of a non-imposing sort of fellow – he’d come up for his hugs and kisses too – but he always looked like he was about to say ‘thanks for noticing’ when you got to him. He didn’t like strangers, but if he *did* like you – watch out! He’d become your best and closest friend.
He loved sleeping in the big bed with the others and would get as close to me as he could at night – he was ‘grateful’ to be in there. You could never raise your voice to Otto – or he’d scuttle away to hide behind a piece of furniture or someplace else he felt was safe. He had many names – Ott, Ott the Tot, Tot, Totty, Otty Totty, and he’d respond to them all. He was just “grateful you noticed”. He loved squeak toys and when a new one came into the house, he’d quickly snatch it up and run. He may be quiet, but he could move when he wanted to.
As he aged, Tot started to leave “presents” for us – on his way to the door to go outside – you’d follow the poop trail; in one of the many dreamsacks around the house for daytime naps, a poop present or two; and yes, in my bed, the joke would be that I’d wake up with “the Christmas poo” a present from Totty, but well, it was easy to clean up. (admit it – how many doxie owners haven’t woke up with some poo??)
His body didn’t age gracefully – he was limping and cried out in pain many times when you picked him up for years. You had to be careful. Finally, the time came when he lost all control of his bodily functions and his back legs; he could no longer walk. Typical doxie that he was, you better not be a minute late with his meals, or he’d be out of that bed dragging himself across the floor – he may have lost the use of his limbs, but he never lost that dachshund appetite.
Daily baths, pee pads and male wraps, his own special bed- complete with toys and treats kept him happy - but on the baths, I began to notice blood and lumps – not a good sign. We shaved him down to keep him cleaner and facilitate ease of washing and keep away rashes, but we all knew where this was leading.
October we said it was time – but we lost our nerve, and didn’t call the vet. He was on a cruise with his wife – maybe after he returned…….then came November and things were getting worse – except for his appetite (which never diminished), Otto had no quality of life, and I was seeing more blood. I made the call before I lost my nerve. We are lucky our vet comes up to our home when needed – and Nov 17 was no different. I admit that I can no longer hold my babies when they leave this earth. I spend time with them beforehand - holding, hugging, rocking, and telling them how much their time with me has meant – how much I have loved them – no matter what those years held – both good and bad, but, somehow, you forget that bad. Tears flow – they *know* you’re saying goodbye.
Bill now takes over the job I once did of holding them as they make that last trip; then they are wrapped in a clean towel, and buried with some of their favorite treasures for their trip to the
Though we change bedding weekly, it was sometime later that I found, while fixing my bed, a “present” amongst the blankets – a little piece of Christmas poo. The other doxies all gave me the “I didn’t do it” look – and because they don’t do that (yet!) – I looked up to heaven and smiled – my sweet Otto wanted me to know he was still having the last laugh.
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