Jill Rants and Raves: oscar's great adventure

Oscar has had some life. That's for damn sure. He's so old, Aida can't even remember when he was born. We know he started life as a San Francisco dachshund, Noe Valley to be exact. This suits him. And then he became a Mendocino County squire, overseeing 40 acres of redwoods, pines and ferns, crossing the creek fearlessly and becoming as famous in Point Arena as the lighthouse. When he was four he had back surgery, and when he was in his early teens his older 'sister' Zelda took a chunk out of his ear after he picked a fight with her over food. He has been lost in the woods, chased by whippets on the Albany Bulb, and assumed to be dead on countless occasions when I couldn't see the little rise and fall of his beautiful chest. He has driven in classic cars, Toyota pick ups, Dodge trucks, Volvos, VW's, Nissans, Subarus and an F150 called Black Beauty. Up and down the coast road, down the dirt roads of the ridge, across the bay bridges, ears (one with a chunk missing) flapping in the cool coastal breezes. He is so well known and loved at the Albany Waterfront that if I go for a walk without him people approach me every few yards as if holding a bunch of condolences until I say 'he's Ok, just sitting this one out at home'. They look relieved. I have promised everyone that on the day Oscar flies off into his own sunset I will post a huge au revoir on the notice board down there.

He outlived his siblings, Spotty and Tiger and may yet surprise me by celebrating another birthday - his 19th - which we have designated as June 1st (just because that's the first date we have on a vet record). Like me, he hates the rain and the cold and has been peeing in the house, which I hate as much as I hate the rain and the cold. His back legs buckle on walks, he cannot hear anymore and clearly his vision is fading. Yet.

Yet, he runs to the door when he thinks it's time to go for a walk with the gang, his tail swishing excitedly across the wood floor, he exuberantly scarfs down his food and anyone else's who is stupid enough to take their eyes off their dish, and cuddles up at night with me (the only dog allowed to do that) with his breath as vile as ever and his luscious brown eyes staring at me until his lids, heavy with the day's adventures fold down. He is the only dachshund I have ever had, and likely to be the last. He arrived in my life 4 years ago, visiting occasionally as Aida worked nearby, and then one day in September 2005 after he had spent the day at doggie daycare (my house) carousing with Roo, Aida came to pick him up and he stared at her blankly, turned his back on her and walked away. He has been here ever since, working on his memoirs. He's had a damn exciting life.

He won't go on the walk this morning. It's a little cool today, and he's dreaming of days sunning himself on the gravel in the backyard. One thing is for sure - Oscar and I have just about had it with winter.