Life Is Short Lick the Bowl

In 2019 my wife, then girlfriend, moved in with me. Along with her, also came a chihuahua mix named Charlie. While Charlie eventually got used to me, it has always been clear that he is Kristina’s dog. Partly because of this and thinking that he would benefit from having a buddy, we decided that when we next moved we would get another dog.

That summer we moved to a house south of Devore to split the difference between our commutes. As part of this move, we did some research to see what dogs might be in shelters near by that would be a good fit for us. Ideally I wanted a girl dog that I could rename Ada Loveleash as an homage to the first computer programmer.

We found a dog online that might fit and drove out to a shelter in the high desert called Beagles and Buddies. We met the dog we were interested in, and while she seemed to get along with Charlie pretty well, she had no interest in us. Unfortunately, she was rescued from a hoarder, and would need a lot of care and attention that we couldn’t provide.

While we were at the shelter we expressed some interest in dachshunds. At the time, we mistakenly believed that Charlie was half dachshund and that since he was a fairly relaxed dog that dachshunds must be very relaxed and easy (especially since chihuahuas are so high strung). The shelter just so happened to have a dachshund.

That dachshund was named Winston Churchill. We were cautioned that he came from a home with only one dog and had proven not to socialize well with other dogs the shelter. We would only be able to take Winston if he and Charlie got along. They brought Winston out to an area where we could all meet him. Right away I was able to pet him, and when I scratched his neck he did an adorable foot movement. I suppose it was love at first scratch.

We adopted Winston and on the way home bought some supplies at a high desert petsmart. While at the store we learned that he was very enthusiastic about squeak toys, and got him a food bowl printed with “Life is short lick the bowl.” A phrase that was meant to be a short joke, but unfortunately proved prophetic.

As we travelled home, we got caught in the traffic returning from Las Vegas. Through this we learned that Winston did not enjoy car rides. At one point he was so frustrated at being in the car that he went upright and timbered over in the backseat of the car.

Soon after getting him home and settling into the routine of our new household, we found out that we were wrong about dachshunds. They are energetic, destructive, and often mean. Thankfully Winston wasn’t mean, but he was certainly more energetic and destructive than we were prepared to deal with. We thought we were getting a relaxed older dog and ended up with a puppy in an older dogs body.

Winston Churchill was a menace. He destroyed his toys very quickly, would chew through the blankets that we bought for the dogs, his separation anxiety made crate training difficult leading to many sleepless nights, he ate many things that could have killed him, and on multiple occasions he managed to get himself onto the stove. In many ways he was too much dog for my wife and I.

Because of all the difficulties, Kristina and I worked really hard to train him where we could. Alter our environment to keep him safe. And we did our best to keep him healthy.

Despite how much of a menace he could be, he was also incredibly sweet and affectionate. He would do whatever he could to crawl into a lap and cuddle. He never passed up an opportunity to lick a face when one strayed too close. He loved to get attention from children. Until we were admonished by his vet, he would regularly flop over to entice people to rub his belly. Winston was just so sweet and loving.

I’m going to miss all of the cuddles. He’s no longer going to be in the office when I work from home. I’m no longer going to hear something crash to the ground and go running to see what he’s gotten into this time. He’s not going to zoom through the house and pick up one of his many toys. There’s now a dachshund shaped hole in our house and our hearts.

After almost five years of living with us Winston Churchill passed away at the age of twelve years old. He’s survived by his adoptive parents Michael and Kristina, his brother Charlie, his aunt Astrea, and Michael’s parents who embraced him as if he were a grandchild (often referring to themselves as Grandpaw and The Great Dame). Life was unfortunately too short but he certainly did lick the bowl.