Digger the Dachshund

I lost a dog I loved so much...

He loved the lake, and a good snuggle...

I called him “baby number four” because he was like a child.  He was engaging like my children, demanding to be noticed, and he had a desire to be beside me every moment in the day. He had short black fur, floppy ears, understanding eyes, diminutive legs and a body so long that Jett said, “There’s enough of him for us all to cuddle him at the same time!”

The COA - Center of Attention!

Diggy out on the paddleboard...

He was the ‘lake dachshund’, our travel dog. The boys would fight over who was ‘in charge’ of him, who got to hold him on their lap, and even who took him to ‘visit’ Africa when we had potty breaks on our road trips. At Cape Maclear, he got nervous when I went for a swim, or took the paddleboard out from the shore. He decided it was better to swim out to check on his people who might be ‘drowning’ and risk the unpredictable swell of the lake, than to watch helplessly from the beach as his humans got further away from his sight. His little tail would circle in the water, acting like a propeller to stabilize his long body as he furiously paddled to ‘rescue’ us. When we inevitably rescued him, pulling him out of the water and holding him close, his little front legs would still be sculling, although he was completely above the surface, and his motions were purely cutting through air.  This always made us laugh, and when we returned him to the sand, he took delight in rolling in it, and pretended to be content again to watch from his dry spot on somebody’s towel, which of course he thought he owned.

Aboard 'Nirvana' - watching his humans snorkeling...

He was the ‘morning dog’, the ultimate snuggler. If the risen sun, and the smell of coffee steaming in the kitchen didn’t indicate daybreak had come, then the sound of dachshund toenails clicking down the tiled floor on their way to my bedside was the sure clue that the house was ready to face a new day. I only had a moment to act, drawing back the mosquito net, to allow the dog a clearing to spring hopefully toward the mattress top, knowing he was still not tall enough to make the leap, but trusting that (as I did every morning) I would assist him onto the bed. If it was cold outside, he would burrow under the duvet and find a comfortable place at my feet, where he hoped to remain, undetected. But there were three little boys who also loved this routine, and when they woke up, they came to find the dog who was nestled beside my toes, because he was also their baby, and they wanted to love him too.

A typical morning scene...

He was the ‘family dog’. During movie nights, he would find the lap, which was least likely to move, and remain there until forced to his dog bed for the night. Outside he loved to chase the Frisbee as we threw it to each other, ever hopeful he could grab it mid-flight. The boys would giggle watching his efforts to attack the flying disc, and marvel how he would never give up. Everybody agreed that he was the only dog allowed in the human beds. Enough said.

We also called him the 'therapy dog'....

Our travel dog

The Hayton dog crowd...

He was the ‘visitor’s dog.’ Many guests (who have never before met a dachshund) thought we were just ‘crazy dachshund’ people – with our dachshund mugs, dachshund refrigerator magnets, dachshund car stickers, dachshund t-shirts, and dachshund pajamas. Yes, dachshund pajamas – for the whole family! But even the biggest cynic soon became a fan (although one of two would not admit it…) and we would watch as our baby number four softened the heart of every visitor who passed through our house.

Such a special breed!

Digger Hayton, RIP my sweet boy. I miss you. xox

He was the ‘once in a lifetime dog’.

He was Digger Hayton, our beloved Dachshund.

I miss him every day. EVERY day.

I visit his grave, where I talk to him but can’t touch his silky ears.

I still drink my coffee in my dachshund mug and I love to wear my dachshund pajamas.

I hear an echo in the hallway where his toenails used to scratch on the tiles.

He died too soon. It was not his time.

“Digger, you brought life and love into our home, and we will NEVER FORGET you.”

Yes, I lost a dog I loved so much.

Digger Hayton, you were loved. xox