We were sitting in a coffee shop at the cinema last night, waiting for the film to begin , when it suddenly began to rain really heavily outside. The noisy, lashing rain which accompanies severe gales. The rain could be seen bouncing up from the pavement . I commented , as you do, that it would be bad weather for Dachshund dogs – or sausage dogs as we used to call them. My son thought that was a ‘ random comment’ and asked me ‘ why dachshunds?’ To which I replied that if the rain is bouncing up, they are so close to the floor that they must get wet both on top and underneath , simultaneously. He made the point that this would happen to any small dog in heavy rain. I couldn’t disagree. And so the conversation carried on.
But in my mind I could picture a particular Dachshund , he was called Max , and he lived round the corner from us when I was a child . He was a cute dog too , very friendly , big brown eyes .
This set me thinking – I didn’t live in a small community , but I knew people well enough to know not just their names but the names of their dogs as well. There was Kelly, a beagle, who was always doing what beagles do, digging holes and escaping under the fence ….. And there was Max , a calm dog, sitting on the doorstep surveying proceedings and then there was Angus – an ageing black Highland Westie – so old his hair was greying – who used to sit on a tartan rug at his owners gate and watch us play ……
Those were the days ……people were at home enough for you to get to know them …..and their dogs……except from my immediate neighbours , we know very few people in our area. We pass each other scuttling too and from work – we don’t wander around the neighbourhood chatting at gates ……..
I recognise the people walking their dogs, but I have no idea what the dogs are called…
It rains like that here all the time with rain coming off the roof and falling directly in the channels round the building . Even the big ugly crows take cover!