A house full of Sausages...

I had a house full of Sausages. Not the greasy, squishy, edible variety, but more precisely, the loveable, quirky Dachshund variety.

Having my home filled with four sausages was not something I’d ever planned: it just kind of happened, as most things do in life.

And it all started with Kiri, or Saus as she was affectionately called.

Saus was a beautiful mini-wire haired dachshund who came to live with me by chance 14 years ago. Her spirit had been severely broken at some point in her life, however she came to trust me and my love for her, in doing so, we became one.

There are no words to describe the depth of her beauty. She was simply Saus, a beautiful, yet incredibly shy being who gave me permission to be the centre of her universe.

I am, and always will be humbled by her trust.

We shared 5 magical years together, years filled with so much love, so much laughter and so many discoveries of her quirky, sausage ways. Her passion for cheese. Her need to burrow into her doggy sleeping bag and most of all, her great love of being in the car. She didn’t have to go anywhere, just getting in and being in the car was her pleasure.

Sadly, on one tragic, summer morning, I lost her. She went into cardiac arrest brought on by a previously unknown heart condition. I was devastated. In losing her, I too was lost.

She had become my world and when she died, I was inconsolable.

Ironically, the day after Saus died, I had a call from a rescue organisation asking if I’d be interested in re-homing a male, mini wire-haired dachshund. My response was instant. No, I could not imagine taking on another right now.

Yet a good friend had other ideas; and despite my inconsolable grief, my friend talked me into going to meet this little fellow. He advised, ‘Jen, you might need him as much as he may need you’.

As I sat on the grass in a park where his current owners and I had agreed to meet, I watched Stanley jump out of the car and cautiously walk toward me. With his little wiry head darting from side to side, his body language seemed to scream fear.

Standing momentarily beside the man who held his lead, he looked around before tentatively walking toward me, cautiously sniffing the area around where I sat.

I didn’t speak, I simply let him do his thing. Then without warning, he climbed onto my lap and buried his head in my arms. I was completely taken aback, yet held him close, hoping my touch would lessen his fear.

A little while later I placed him gently on the grass, stood up and walked toward the picnic table to retrieve a bottle of water. Stanley followed and would not leave my side. At that moment I realised he had made his decision, I was his person.

So Stanley came to live with me, and just as my friend said, we needed each other. In his company, my grief over losing Saus slowly subsided and I believe his memory of a life less than perfect also faded.

Nine years on, his loyalty has never waned.

However in the early days of him being with us, that loyalty also brought about separation anxiety. Family told me that when I left the house without him, he would wait by the window, forever watching for my return. I decided a companion may help ease his separation anxiety.

Enter Oscar aka Bear.

Oscar came to us as a pup, full of life and love and the perfect companion for Stanley. Stanley adored him instantly, was his protector and the two became inseparable.

Oscar was a standard wire-haired dachshund, so as an adult dog, he was quite a bit bigger than Stanley and gloompfed along like a big 'ole bear. And that’s how he came to acquire his nickname, Bear.

Two years after Oscar’s arrival I had another call from Dachshund Rescue (DR) asking if I would foster a smooth-haired, male black & tan male whose family were going through a divorce and could not keep him. At nine, Simon had only known one family, however within minutes of him coming to us, it was if we were that family. Simon seemed to love being with his new brothers, so the decision to keep him was made and Simon became part of our family.

A year later I had another call. Would I foster again? However Eddie (as we later chose to name him) was different, as whatever had happened to him was beyond tragic. He had been found in an industrial waste bin wrapped in wire. Extremely emaciated and terrified, he was allegedly taken to a pound where he stayed for 6 weeks before DR was called.

When I first saw him I melted. The fear is his beautiful amber eyes was absolute. Ribs and spine protruded through his rich, copper coloured coat and on closer inspection, he had a severe overbite.

I knew that in time, his physical issues could be mended, yet his emotional trauma would obviously take time to heal as his fear of people was deep seeded. Nearly six years on, Eddie still has an intense fear of strangers, however he now knows love and whilst going for walks is not his thing, nor is being anywhere that involves mixing with people other than his own, he is now a happy, well loved sausage.

So yes, I had a house full of Sausages. I say had, as only very recently we lost two of our beloved boys. At 15, an aggressive bone cancer took our beloved Simon and tragically only 3 weeks later, my soul mate, and Stanley's best bro Oscar, developed myelomalacia, a rare complication of Intervertebral Disc Disease (IVDD).

Oscar's loss has been hardest of all as it was so sudden and so unexpected considering the spinal surgery he had was deemed successful. Myelomalacia occurs in less than 5% of IVDD affected dogs and its affect is devastating as there is no cure.

Despite the unbearable loss of Simon & Oscar, I'm so grateful to have held them in their final moments and to know they were once such loved member of our crazy, laughter & love filled home.

Yes I had a house full of Sausages.