Gallatin had no leash laws, so our dachshund, Copper, roamed the area at will. He often went to the doors of the neighbors and barked, awaiting a handout. But imagine my shock one day when I saw him walk jauntily down the middle of the road with what looked like a whole cake in his mouth!

Where on earth did he get it? Did he steal it from a neighbor who was cooling it off for frosting?

I ran outside and grabbed Copper and then the cake. It was then I found it was a rock hard angel food that someone apparently put in a trash can, one accessible to a dog with short feet.

Well Known in Town as the Wiener Dog!

He was a rust colored “wiener” dog, a standard rather than a miniature dachshund. Dad purchased him for a whopping $60 (lots of money in 1953) from a woman in Kansas City, who bred the dogs at her home. I always said Copper was chosen from the two litters of puppies she had because he licked my hand the longest.

But Copper was a great little pet who lived from the time I was 7 until I was 20. Copper lived to a decent age for a dachshund anyway. He deteriorated due to being overweight (those garbage can runs get to you). He also had a series of fatty tumors that our town veterinarian Dr. David Macintosh removed on more than one occasion. When he died, he had an enlarged heart. Of course, that was no surprise. We always knew his heart was big!

Copper and Children

Copper tagged along with us everywhere, just like my buddy Gayle’s dog Penny did. In the days before leash laws, that’s what kids and their dogs did. One day, Copper and Penny went to the defense of a neighbor’s dog being attacked by a stray. It all happened in our front yard. Copper dug his teeth into one haunch of the enormous attack stray, while Penny attached herself to another. Our mothers, in the meantime, sprayed the fighting dogs with hoses to break up the fight. Eventually the attack stray left with teeth marks I’m sure he remembered for a long time. The other dog slunk home where she licked her many wounds and recovered with some help from her owners.

And Where Did He Get Those Joints?

No, not those kinds of joints! Copper came home a couple of times dragging what appeared to be the whole leg bone of a cow. We lived on the edge of town, so I suppose it’s possible he wandered farther than we realized and found these in the scrap pile after an animal had been slaughtered. He wasn’t happy turning these over to my dad at the end of the day.

He also loved chasing small furry animals, the result of many years of dachshund breeding. But a couple of times he  killed yellow kittens belonging to neighbors, a cause of great heartache and embarrassment for my family.

Down the Middle of the Street

This little dog, though, ruled his kingdom. He sat up on his haunches for hours watching the world from my parents’ picture window, and he rested in a wicker basket underneath the coffee table. At mother’s insistence he always slept in the garage in a doghouse my father had made. In winter weather, Dad always warmed his blankets before putting Copper outside.

Copper didn’t watch out for cars, and it’s surprising he lived into his dotage. He walked down the middle of the gravel road on our street as though it belonged to him. When cars came, they went around or drove slowly behind him until he moved.

While I have two sweet wire-haired dachshund mixes, rescue dogs, now, they just aren’t Copper, and probably no dog ever will be.