This morning, I thought I’d take the time to introduce you to our rescued miniature dachshund. I named him Truman (after Truman Capote, one of my favorite authors) and in many ways, he lives up to the name, often displaying eccentricities associated with those of an artistic bent.
Last Thanksgiving, we were introduced to him by a friend. They found him on their parent’s farm, and at first, thought he was a fox since he was chasing the cows. Upon closer inspection, they discovered a scrawny, wild pup that they assumed had been abandoned.
We went to visit and see if he would be a good addition to the family. Despite his yipping and despite his fear of us, I eventually was able to get him comfortable enough to let me pet him.
As a boy, our pet was a full-size dachshund, and I suppose at this phase of my life, I was looking for an emotional connecting point back to my childhood. All that to say that we bonded and I made plans to add this pup to our life.
I’ll write about our journey another time, but I’ll fast forward to say Mr. Truman has come a LONG way. Yes, he still displays “Trumanesque” attitudes and behaviors, but he has become a dear member of our family. And as the picture will attest, he’s adopted an almost regal persona, like a lost king regaining his crown.