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Weinie Dog Security Co.

Dog On Duty - Emma

Emma is the second dachshund we have owned.
After our first one died we discovered the house was much too lonely without a wienie dog.
We got Emma when she was six weeks old. She loves to lay on the patio and chew on her dog toys and eat pig ears.

In my lap
Another one of Emma's favorite lap.
7 weeks old

Emma is hooked on treats.
Pig ears, begging strips, gourmet dog cookies, you name it and she will eat it and wags her tail in appreciation.
She enjoys retriving her ball so we try to make time to play ball a few times a week.
Late evening walks and taking long naps on week-ends snuggled up on one of our laps are also high on her favorite things list.

1 year old
Emma - 12 months old.

Dachshunds were bred originally for badger and rabbit hunting.
Their legs are so constructed as to actually fold enabling them to go into badger or rabbit holes.

Emma rhinks she is a human and wants to eat whatever is cooking on the stove,
so as hard as we try not to give in to her wistful looks and pitiful whines she does ocassionally end up with tiny serving of people food.
We have to be careful not to feed Emma much people food because being over weight could cause back problems and digestive disorders.

Emma and Mandys awards page.
Click here to view them.

Our Emma
Lady Emma Mirella
Second Dog
Sometimes I look for traits in you
Of a little dog you never knew...
A dog that loved me all her days
And understood in special ways.
But that's not fair to you, you elf;
You're not a substitute, but yourself!
You've eased the loss, soothed the pain
And tugged my laughter home again.
Yet, puppy, at times I almost start
When your eyes recall her to my heart;
You'll never lack for love, it's clear
Because of her, you're twice as dear.

Author Unknown
Photo Copyright 2001

Emma 8 weeks old
Photo Copyright 2001

You can't buy loyalty they say.
I bought it though, the other day.
You can't buy friendships, tried and true.
Well just the same, I bought that too.
I made my bid and on the spot
Bought love and faith and a whole lot
Of happiness, so all in all
The purchase price was pretty small.
I bought a single trusting heart,
That gave devotion from the start.
If you think these things are not for sale
Buy a brown-eyed puppy
With a wagging tail.
Author Unknown
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Born March 1990
Arrived at Rainbow Bridge Feb. 5, 2001

The Best Place
There is one best place to bury a dog.
If you bury him in this spot, he will
Come to you when you call -
Come to you over the grim, dim frontier
Of death, and down the well-remembered
Path, and to your side again.
And though you call a dozen living
Dogs to heel, they shall not growl at
Him, nor resent his coming,
For he belongs there.
People may scoff at you, who see
No lightest blade of grass bent by his
Footfall, who hear no whimper. People
who may never really have had a dog?
Smile at them, for you shall know
Something that is hidden from them,
And which is well worth the knowing.
The one best place to bury a good
Dog is in the heart of his master.
Ben Hur Lampman
Printed in the Portland Oregonian Sept. 11, 1925
Dogs Who've Shared our Lives
They will not go quietly, the dogs who've shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know their spirit still survives.
Old habits still make us think we hear a barking at the door.
Or step back when we drop a tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place the food dish used to be.
And, sometimes, coming home at night, we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts belongs to them...and always will.
Sometimes it helps just to know someone cares...and I do.
Author Unknown
Four Feet
I have done mostly what men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can't forget, if I wanted to
Four-Feet trotting behind.
Day after day, the whole day through
Wherever my road inclined
Four-Feet said, "I am coming with you!"
And trotted along behind.
Now I must go by some other round
Which I shall never find
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four Feet trotting behind.
Rudyard Kipling


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