On July 13, my dachshund Smoki died at age 14. There hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t thought of her and missed her. She was the best friend a person could ever have.
I decided to write about her today because I just “met” my KTS4 partner, Kim. And in our introductory emails, Kim sent me this cute video of another dachshund who had the same trim wasteline as our girl Smoki.
Smoki wasn’t always shaped like this. She had gotten a little plumper the last couple of years. The vet diagnosed her with Cushings Disease; but, before we could start treatment she succumbed to the cancer that probably had created the Cushings via a tumor on her kidneys or pituitary gland.
She loved being covered. She loved snuggling in laundry, like this pile of dog blankets and old curtains. She would self-cover when she could. In this photo though, I helped out a bit with a bit of crocheted lace that needed to have the dust washed out of it. Smoki stayed put after I covered her, looking very much like a much-beloved toy hippo I had as a child. Grandma had helped me crochet a sweater for my toy hippo and when Smoki was laying there on those lace curtains the parallell was irrisistable. I simply had to cover her with a crocheted doily. Of course, she didn’t mind.
Her good buddy Jakob survived her. He misses her too. Sometimes we walk together to visit her grave. We check the perennials I planted there. I got plants with names and characteristics that reminded me of her: Campanula rotundifolia, the Jacob Cline variety of mondara, tall phlox because she loved hunting grasshoppers in the tall phlox that grew in front of a house I lived in once, and then even more Campanula sp. because that’s really what she was–my companion.
She loved to sing. She would put her head back and belt her little heart out. She loved being with people. She loved sweets and pastry and chocolate. She once climbed on the kitchen table and ate an entire pound of chocolate truffles and 13 Mexican wedding cookies covered in chocolate and caramel. The vet laughed when I called in a panic. We changed vets after that. She climbed four shelves up in the pantry to eat our Christmas morning coffee cake one year. She scaled the dining room table to attack three donuts. Our little German pastry hound. I really miss her.
Sometime, take a look at my Ravelry or my WordPress image. That singing little dachshund isn’t just any dachsund. That’s Smoki, serenading us with a song.