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| Riley with green collar and Missy |
I love my
“fur”ever home. But I have had a rough life;
I am what you humans call a stray. Let
me introduce myself. My name is Riley
and I am a red brindle/wild boar smooth haired dachshund. That is a mouthful to say, so I call myself a
short haired brown dachshund or doxie for short. I am maybe around 7 to 9 years young. You should see me run, and I have the energy
of a young dachshund. I am able to go on
long walks with my mom and never need a rest break like my sister Missy who is
only five years old. I am muscular;
sometimes my mom calls me fat boy when she picks me up. She is just comparing me to my skinny
miniature sister who weighs much less than my 17 lbs of muscle.
Why am I
writing this story you ask? It is for
all of you who are thinking about adding a dog to your family. Please, please, pretty please adopt a
RESCUE. Yes, I know you want a cute
little puppy. They are sooo… cute, and
they have that puppy fur that you love petting and smelling. Yes, they give little puppy kisses. But us mature dogs are also cute, yet we may
not have that soft puppy fur anymore. I
sure don’t. My fur is rough and I have a
huge fat scar on my back, and pieces gone out of my ears. Trust me I love getting petted. My parents take me weekly to a nursing home
to visit the residents, and boy do they love rubbing my head and back. Some even give me dog bones to snack on. (Thanks Chuck and Chris). I repay them with a cute smile and tail
wag. Then I do this cute little gesture
of raising my left paw to beg for more.
I learned that trick when I was living on my own for months before they
caught me. I would see people eating on
the Fort Riley Army Base in Kansas where I spent my days as a stray. I would lift my paw, smile, wag my tail, and I
would get a bite of people food to eat. Fried chicken was my favorite. It sure beats eating raw rabbit.
Old habits sometimes come back to haunt me. My
mom caught me eating a baby rabbit the other day under the porch. I told her I was sorry, but had forgotten to
take the rabbit fur out of between my teeth when I came back in the house. When the weather is nice, she takes me on my
daily walk to the park behind my house. I still try to beg chicken bites from
those who are picnicking. Yes, I know I
have food at my house, but not fried chicken. (Don’t tell mom, but dad sneaks
me pieces of chicken baked not fried.)
Mom has us both on a diet.
We mature
older dogs love also giving kisses, just like those cute little puppies. But we give bigger and longer kisses. My sister Missy who is also a rescue loves to
give kisses. She was in six homes before
her “fur”ever home at the young age of two.
Yes, she is a licker. One family
that adopted her returned her to the rescue organization NDR that we both came
from, because she licked too much. Yes,
I am not making this up about my sister.
My parents got her to be with their disabled dachshund Snoopy, who loved
to be licked by her. He died a month
before I came to live with my “fur”ever family.
That is why they adopted me. Missy
could not be left alone. When my parents
left, she would break out of her kennel.
One day when they came home from church, she met them at the door. The wire kennel had eight welds broken on the
top that she broke to escape to tear down the curtains, and pee on the
carpet. She was having a panic attack. Since I came, she has not had a panic attack
again. She goes into the kennel with me
when our parents leave us. We don’t
spend too much time in the kennel, since we get to go most everywhere with our
parents. My favorite is camping and
traveling. There are so many new smells
out there when we travel.
So why am I
telling you all this. If you only have
one dog now, please, please, pretty please RESCUE a sister or brother for your
loved one. You have love to share with
two don’t you? Your dog will love having
someone to go on walks with, play with, and my favorite - snuggle
together. Yes, you have room for two on
your lap that is if you have a small breed like me and my sister. Think about this, twice as many kisses.
I am also
dedicating this short story to those who are fostering us rescues. I am also addressing you who are thinking
about fostering us rescues. Please,
please, pretty please, find a rescue organization and fill out an
application. I am very thankful for my
foster mom who lives in Lincoln, NE. I
am hoping that I can visit her someday.
She still remembers me even though it has been over two years. But then who could forget about cute little
me?
If it was
not for Carla my foster mom, I would have been killed! Oh, you humans call it put to sleep. My parents were told that, “I was a little
rascal, having survived the streets, after my first family moved away.” On the base where I lived they called it
deployment. I thought they loved me, but
they just left me behind. Sure, they
left me some food and water, but hey it was cold at night. It was around the month of March or April
when they left me. Living on the street
is very hard for a cute dachshund like me.
I did the best that I could. I
still wonder why they did not surrender me to the Veterinary Service on base if
they loved me. They thought that another
army family would take me in. That did
not happen to me! I have the scar on my
back, pieces gone from my ears, and I am missing some of my front claws. That
is another story that I may tell someday.
I might call that story, My Adventures While Living and Hiding out on
the Streets of Fort Riley. Or something shorter like Surviving the Streets. My
foster mom, Carla told me that leaving dogs behind on military bases are common
occurrences. The local rescue groups
will not adopt pets to military families anymore unless they are permanently
stationed or retired. Don’t think I am
bad mouthing military families. I know
you are working for our country and freedoms.
I want to thank you for your current and past service to my USA.
When my
foster mom Carla rescued me from Kansas, I was quote, “Soooo stinky and covered
in bugs of all sorts.” She had to give
me two baths just to be able to travel in her RV to Lincoln, NE. She had been camping in Manhattan KS when she
got the plea from a local rescue. Wow,
the Lord’s hand was in this placement, according to my mom.
I need to
give you a little background history. I
was caught and sent to the Fort Riley Veterinary Treatment/Stray Facility. This was May 19, 2011. They gave me the name Frank. Get real a cute guy like me named Frank? Yes, they came up with the name Frank because
some kids call us dachshunds weenie dogs. Mom, I want to thank you for not
dressing me up in a hot dog bun costume on that day when little kids dress up
and beg for candy. I have seen some of
my cousins dressed up like that; not very manly looking bro.
Well I was
scheduled for death, oh I mean “put to sleep” but instead I was turned over to
the local rescue on May 28, 2011. Thanks,
Kansas Second Time Animal Rescue. They
were desperate to find a safe place for me, and had no luck, as I appeared to
be a mix and rather feral. Can you
believe that! Feral? If you don’t know
what that means, that is ok. Mom had to
look it up in a dictionary. It means
existing in a wild or untamed state; having returned to an untamed state from
domestication. You humans jump to
conclusions about other humans, based on their behavior. “Look at that bum
living on the streets, go get a job!”
Yes, he had a job years ago serving our country, but is going through a
tough time due to his past. You judge
people on how they look and smell on the outside, and not what is in their
heart. Thank you Carla for not judging
me on my behavior, looks, and smell; you were able to see my loving heart.
The local
rescue thought to call my foster mom Carla, since she was known to never turn
down a challenge pup. My challenge was
surviving. I lived with her and her other
dogs for three months. She takes us
tough kids in for months which inspired her to start her own rescue. She currently runs Hope Husker Rescue which
cares for special needs dogs that no one wants.
My mom has
told me all about special needs dogs. My
brother Snoopy, who died before I arrived, as I told you earlier, had special
needs. My parents had Snoopy for 12
years and 7 of those years he lived without using his back legs. A big dog stepped on his back and broke it. My mom had to carry him outside to express
his bladder (pee him by squeezing his bladder).
He had a special wheel chair cart that he used at times, but most of the
time he used his front legs to get around. She took him on walks in a baby
stroller. At times my sister Missy would
get to ride in the stroller on long walks.
That is probably why she does not like long walks. She was spoiled when she was younger. But don’t get me bad talking about my Sis. Ok,
maybe just a little. She gets to sleep
right next to mom under mom’s covers, while I have to sleep at the foot of the
bed. She only likes soft dog treats as
snacks, but sometimes will take a hard bone and guard it. Sooner or later she forgets about it and I
steal and eat it. (PS don’t tell my
mom.)
Our Vet said that most people put their
special needs dogs to sleep, but not my parents. My mom worked with special needs children and
young adults for years. Their parents
don’t put them to sleep just because they can’t walk, see, or hear. They care for them and love them like their
other children. I have heard about this
thing that humans call abortion that will kill a disabled infant that some
humans call a fetus. Just thinking about
that sends a chill down my scarred back.
Another
please, please, pretty please think about fostering or adopting a special needs
dog. They also have a lot of love to
share. According to my foster mom Carla,
“There are too many tough cases and not enough people willing to foster or
adopt.” I realize that not all can adopt
a rescue or foster but you can make a donation to a rescue organization of your
choice. Every little bit helps. Thanks ahead of time for your donation.
Back to my
story. I apologize for getting off track
and errors you may find in my story. You
see my mom is helping me write this story.
It is winter time and she is very bored, so she thought about writing a
story about me. She was a teacher but
had to retire last year, so she has time on her hands. She had a stoke two years ago and now is
blind. She lost a lot of brain cells and
had to relearn how to do things as a blind person. She had to relearn how to read, write, and
spell. I could not help her in those areas, but I do help her on walks when dad
is not around. I am her guide dog as she
calls me. I had no formal training to help the blind, but I am very smart and a
fast learner, with a keen sense of smell. Last year while camping she got lost while
walking my sister and me. She could not find the RV. She told me, “Riley find daddy.” She asked me not Sis. I did what she asked and turned on my keen
sense of smell and lead her to daddy and the RV. I was tired of wandering
around the park and I was missing dinner time. I also help on our walks in the
park. I bark when a dog and people
approach us. I am just saying, “Hi”, but
it lets mom know someone is around. She
has just a little bit of vision left that she has learned to use and scan her
surroundings. She has learned to follow
me along the sidewalk. She does have
troubles picking up my big jobs, so I have to tell her by kicking my back leg
and trying to help her by burying my poop under leaves and grass. Would not want someone to see my poop mess,
or maybe even step in it. Mom has done
that many times in our yard.
I lived in
Lincoln, NE for three months with my foster mom and family. She worked with me on life skills. The alpha boys at the house were not too fond
of me. Carla said I was a happy-go-lucky
pup that was starved for attention. It
did take me days before I started to realize that there was a never ending
supply of food. I was a food hoarder. As
I said earlier, old habits are hard to break.
I still hoard little piles of food by the door or under the table. Before I go for a ride or walk I run over to
my dog food bowl and get a bite to eat.
When I go outside to do my duty, I have to take a toy with me. At times my yard has toys hid all over. My favorite hiding place is behind the bushes
by the fence leading to the park. Mom
then has to crawl under the bushes to retrieve my toys, so I have some to play
with inside. Mom does not know why I do
this. She thinks that I think, if they
ever left me like my first family in KS did, I would at least have toys to play
with.
I consider
my birthday to be on August 10, 2011.
That is when I went to live with my forever family. Dad had been looking at the NE Dachshund
Rescue web site and would read about dogs that needed homes. He called about another dog but that dog was
going to be adopted by its foster family.
Carla told him about me. So she
made the trip to Omaha, so mom and dad could meet me. I had to be able to get along with Missy, and
mom and dad’s grandkids. I passed the
tests. I got along with Missy. I only growled at her once when I was sitting
with dad in his recliner and Missy jumped up to sit with us. Dad told me, NO. I learned fast that dad had room for both of
us. When the grandkids came over the
next weekend, I passed that test. Mom
was worried a bit, and gave the kids directions on letting me smell them before
they touched me. I still don’t know why
she was worried. I love children. Dad said mom worries about everything.
I did not
plan on my story to be this long. Thanks
for hanging in there and reading my story.
I need to go right now, I smell chicken.
I have earned a small bite from dad for all my hard work telling my
story and trying to get you to adopt, foster, or donate. PS. Don’t tell mom. She worries too much about diet.
Special Thanks
to the following:
Mom, Dad, (Rene
and Pat McQuinn), and Sis (Missy) plus my cousin (Maggie) a Silky that visits, travels
and camps with us.
Foster Mom
Carla Chapman with Husker’s Hope Dachshund Rescue. Which is a place of Hope and
Healing for Dachshunds in need.
Nebraska
Dachshund Rescue
Kansas
Second Time Animal Rescue
Fort Riley
Veterinary Treatment/Stray Facility
My vet at
All Creatures that gives me those dreaded shots that they say I need.
Dawn’s Groom
Room in Omaha. Dawn keeps my nails
trimmed, and keeps Maggie groomed and mom’s and dad’s past dogs Lolly, Carmel,
and Snoop groomed for many years.
Those of you
who are currently fostering and those of you who will foster in the near
future. Fill out the application. Thanks to Missy’s (Princess Di) foster parent’s
at NRD.
Those of you
who have adopted a rescue and those who will adopt a rescue in the future.
Like I said
earlier, Thank you for your generous donation to the rescue of your choice. I tend to favor those who rescue us cute
little dachshunds. I just want to support my breed.
My mom is
making me thank Companion Care Veterinary Clinic in Lincoln NE for doing a
canine orchiectomy on me. Let’s put it
this way, I left some body parts behind.
Humans need to spay or neuter their pets. I had this done to me late in
life. I still wonder if I have left behind in Kansas some very cute part doxie
pups when I was living on the streets?
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