 
When my brother and I were kids, not long after my sister was born, my father bought us a dog. He ordered it from a breeder in southern Ontario, and it arrived one day by train in a small cage. It was a dachshund, a 'weiner dog', and we all loved him at first sight. We called him Fritz. There's no cuter dog than a Dachshund puppy!Fritz was a black and tan dachshund. The breed was originally developed in Germany where it was bred to scent, chase, and flush out badgers and other burrow-dwelling animals.   That's me on the right, at about age 9 We only had Fritz for a couple of years, but during that time he made an impression on all of us. He loved being outside with people. When we went on trips to the lake, he was excited to be in the car with the window half-rolled down, and we discovered that he loved to swim. However, things began to go wrong from the start. When we would let him out to pee, Fritz would run around the house, around and around, dribbling pee as he went. Within a week there was a path worn in the grass where he was running. When we would take Fritz for walks, he was paralyzed with fear whenever we would meet another dog. He would lie down on his back as if preparing to be eaten! In hidsight, I suspect the breeder we'd gotten Fritz from was probably a 'puppy mill' operation, and that Fritz was likely severely inbred. But we didn't know that then. Fritz did like hot dogs, and barbecue days outside were his favourite times. He was also a very loving dog; I don't remember him ever biting any of us, although he wasn't a fan of the scruffy neighbourhood cat that used to hang around our place. We loved him to pieces. My brother Don and Fritz had a special affinity. The short video snippet above is from my father's home movie collection, which many years ago my sister had converted to digital format. Fritz loved being with us in the yard. My father bought Fritz a small German cross to hang on his collar. Being a dachshund, it tended to drag on the floor a lot. However, Fritz's sometimes erratic behaviour continued. He would bark occasionally at walls, for no apparent reason. The pee path around our house, which he never, ever deviated from when alone, got deeper. Neighbours commented on it. One day when Fritz was outside on his pee run, he disappeared. He was missing for many weeks, and we all assumed that he'd been grabbed by another dog and was dead. But one day a neighbour living nearby in the lane behind our place called and asked if we were missing a dog. He said that there was an emaciated dachshund in his shed, and he couldn't get near it because it would growl menacingly. My father decided to let my brother Don go with him to have a look, since Fritz had absolutely doted on my brother. They returned shortly with the dog that was indeed Fritz. He was emaciated, scared, and his paws were worn and bloody. While he was at the veterinarian recuperating, we surmised that someone driving by must have seen him in the front yard and stopped, opening a door to let him jump in. Fritz did love to ride in cars, and wouldn't have turned down an offer like that! Days later, wherever the person had taken him, he must have escaped and headed home, walking many, many miles. How he was able to do that we never figured out. We loved him even more after that. But he was never the same, in temperament or health. He growled a lot ... although never at Don. He was generally sickly. He refused to go on walks. When we left for our summer vacation down south, and dropped him off at the vet as we had done the previous summer, my father made the request to have him put down. Without telling us. When we got back and my father told us what he had done, my brother, sister and I were very angry, since we hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Fritz. I remember my resentment continued for a long time. |