Mini dachshund
The Southeastern service from Charing Cross to Hastings stops at Orpington, a fact I throw in here only as a segue into a story of love, romance and a very small sausage dog. No, I haven’t moved homes, but I have moved my affections. For two months now it has proved impossible to concentrate on floor coverings or wallpaper choices (the jury is still out on both). It began with a low rumbling campaign started several years ago by my daughter – long ago smitten with Sizzles, the cheeky dachshund in the Charlie And Lola stories – and ended with me sitting in a very lovely lounge in, yes, Orpington.
If I thought that doing up a house by the seaside was to prove hard work it was nothing compared to attempting to join this elite band of dog owners. At one point I felt I had more chance of getting Hillary Clinton to do my ironing than successfully ending up with a chocolate-coloured miniature dachshund on my lap.
I realise that at this stage I risk the ire of any readers who object to pedigree puppies being given homes when there are so many rescue dogs in need. And I have no defence to this moral argument other than I have rehomed rescue dogs and cats and continue to support the work of Battersea Dogs Home. But ultimately, I don’t have an excuse, the more I looked at puppy pictures, the more hopelessly I fell. But as I said, it wasn’t that easy.
Owners of mini dachshunds guard their charges’ offspring ferociously. Before I finally took ‘Darcy Bustle’ home in a wicker carry basket, I’d already failed to make the grade several times – one owner said that I had passed the ‘five-star home test’ but it wasn’t enough. Another said the seaside wasn’t a safe place for a mini sausage. They can’t swim very well, apparently. Darcy Bustle may not be a rescue puppy but she did have a sad start in life and was orphaned when her mother died in childbirth. Karen in Orpington didn’t mind about the seaside, or about five-star tests. All she wanted was for her little girl to be cherished. Once she realised that there was a team of doting stepmothers waiting here at Bedford Street, she signed the release form and we welcomed in our new office dog. I hope Coco would approve.
Next week: The Diary of Miss Darcy Bustle begins
If I thought that doing up a house by the seaside was to prove hard work it was nothing compared to attempting to join this elite band of dog owners. At one point I felt I had more chance of getting Hillary Clinton to do my ironing than successfully ending up with a chocolate-coloured miniature dachshund on my lap.
I realise that at this stage I risk the ire of any readers who object to pedigree puppies being given homes when there are so many rescue dogs in need. And I have no defence to this moral argument other than I have rehomed rescue dogs and cats and continue to support the work of Battersea Dogs Home. But ultimately, I don’t have an excuse, the more I looked at puppy pictures, the more hopelessly I fell. But as I said, it wasn’t that easy.
Owners of mini dachshunds guard their charges’ offspring ferociously. Before I finally took ‘Darcy Bustle’ home in a wicker carry basket, I’d already failed to make the grade several times – one owner said that I had passed the ‘five-star home test’ but it wasn’t enough. Another said the seaside wasn’t a safe place for a mini sausage. They can’t swim very well, apparently. Darcy Bustle may not be a rescue puppy but she did have a sad start in life and was orphaned when her mother died in childbirth. Karen in Orpington didn’t mind about the seaside, or about five-star tests. All she wanted was for her little girl to be cherished. Once she realised that there was a team of doting stepmothers waiting here at Bedford Street, she signed the release form and we welcomed in our new office dog. I hope Coco would approve.
Next week: The Diary of Miss Darcy Bustle begins