For the last two years my birthday weekend in early September has signified something special and huge and all-important.  The anniversary of my birth?  No. 

I’m talking about a spectacle full of pomp and circumstance, a competition where the stakes are high and the dogs are low (to the ground).  That’s right…the weenie races.  For the past two years, my stepdad Kenny and I have taken our dachshund Oscar and his moral support, our beagle Blue, to the Germantown Festival to stake his claim for the big win and, of course, eternal glory.

Here’s Oscar with his race-sanctioned bandana. Photo by Erin Tracy of Erin Tracy Photography

We learned a lot our first year.  First of all, we learned that Oscar is really not that original a name for a weenie dog.  We thought we were very clever, but if that’s the case then 5 out of 10 dachshund owners are exactly as clever as us.

We also learned that we probably should give ourselves a little extra time before the races start.  It was a mad dash from the parking lot to the arena where the races were being held, and you know every one step for a person is like thirty for a dachshund, so I mean, Oscar was TIRED.  And naturally he was in the first heat, so any break he might have been hoping for before his big moment was not happening.

We had a strategy.  We had been running drills for weeks beforehand.  And when I say weeks, I mean one time a few hours before the race.  The plan was that we would all three walk to the starting line together.  I would stay there with Oscar, while he watched Kenny, with a favorite toy in hand, walk to the finish line.  When the starting gun fired, Oscar would undoubtedly run full steam ahead toward his dad in a heroic bid for the win.

So did I mention Oscar was TIRED?  Right, he had just walked like a half mile from the parking lot in about 10 minutes, which of course to a dachshund is like a half-marathon.  We were so late I didn’t even have time to find the friends (Justin and Katie) who were going to hold Blue during the race…I was just handing Blue’s leash over to a girl who looked nice enough when Justin materialized right then and said, "Wait, were you about to give your dog to a complete stranger?" 

When we finally made it on to the track, everyone was already out there and they were waiting for us…so there was no time to carry out our foolproof strategic plan.  Kenny had to get to his side and we had to get to our side or they were going to start without us.  When Oscar and I got to the starting line, he promptly laid down on the ground.  Ready to win, as long as winning didn’t involve running or moving of any kind. 

But then the starting gun sounded, and to my surprise Oscar took off running at a very strong clip.  I was shocked and amazed until I realized he was chasing after another dog in the race, but at least he picked a competitive dog to chase after, right?  He was going faster than I ever imagined he would and I was reeling with the knowledge that he could actually place in this thing.  But then.  As quickly as he had started running toward the finish line, he changed direction entirely and ran full speed right back to the starting line. 

And then imagine his disappointment when he heard over the loudspeaker, "The winner of Heat 1 is…OSCAR!" only to remember, right, every other dog here is named Oscar.  Thanks for the one-of-a-kind name, DAD.

We went back last year with high hopes.  He knew what to expect, he wasn’t a rookie anymore.  All of our friends and family brought their dogs out to cheer him on…it was quite the affair.  This time, we got there early, gave ourselves plenty of time, and his heat was the fifth one.  We could all feel that this was his year.  We had time to let Oscar watch Kenny walk to the starting line, so he knew where he was supposed to be going.  Then the starting gun went off, and…Oscar took exactly three steps toward the finish line before wandering off the side of the track.  Overheard in the stands: "Can I get my parking money back?"

So you can see how the excitement of the weenie races has made it a can’t-miss yearly tradition.  I went to the Germantown Festival’s website today to get registration information, and the unthinkable has happened.  It is scheduled for the second weekend in September, and I have planned a girls’ trip to Chicago on that weekend!  How did this HAPPEN?  I thought they were supposed to be the FIRST weekend of September!  Oscar will be so disappointed.  And when I say he’ll be disappointed, I mean he’ll mutter to himself, "Thank God."

About a month after I started dogwalking, my group leader sent out an email about Tally, a beautiful brindle and white pit mix who seemed to be very depressed. 

There is an eyewitness account of him, before he was brought to the Humane Society, being beaten by a man with a metal rod on a street corner, so you can only imagine what kinds of atrocities Tally experienced while NOT in public.  He was thankfully rescued from that situation, but he now appeared to be suffering from kennel stress and wasn’t eating much and was losing weight, and he didn’t even want to leave his kennel when the dogwalkers came to take him out to the play yards.  At that time, I hadn’t gotten Tally out much, because everyone loved him so much, he was usually one of the first ones to go out–his biggest fans wanted to make sure they got their time with him.

After I got this email asking for walkers to give him lots of special attention and delicious treats and time out of his kennel in whatever way he was comfortable with, I made a point to get to dogwalking early a few times to get him out and spend 30 minutes or so with him.  And I had to coax him every few feet for the most part, but once we got to a comfy spot away from the kennel, he was content to just sit down, eat treats and snuggle.  I really fell in love with him just a little bit then.  We knew we wanted another dog for Cara at some point, but my plan was to get another dog closer to her size…Tally had about 15 lbs on her. 

About two months later, another email about Tally was sent out.  He had been showing inappropriate and unadoptable displays of aggression toward people around the Humane Society.  The Humane Society understandably will not knowingly adopt out an unpredictable and/or aggressive dog, and his behavior certainly wasn’t going to improve if he continued to experience kennel stress, which can manifest in a variety of ways, including depression, loss of appetite and even aggression, so a foster home was really his only shot. 

Charles has always said he never wanted to foster a dog, and I agreed.  But when I read that email, I knew that he would understand how important it was, and he did.  We said that if Tally got along with Cara and Charles, we would do it.  There was a bumpy start, but after a few tries, everyone got along famously, and so now here we are!

I take Tally to an obedience class once a week.  But for him, it’s more of a desensitization class.  The teacher, Donna, is gradually building back Tally’s trust in people. It’s been two months now, and I have seen him make some amazing strides.  It’s going to be a very long road for Tally, but I know he can do it.