We went to my parents’ in Virginia for Thanksgiving this year.

On Black Friday (I don’t do the “shopping thing” anyway), the family decided to go to the local SPCA.

We’d been seriously considering a dog for the family–most likely a beagle–for over a year (I had been raised with a variety of gun dogs but was on the fence as to the “perfect match” for our family).

Living on a farm, you can imagine the odors that come in with you from the barn on any given day. Not to mention the fact that when you have free-ranging poultry, a bird dog might be taking the kids for a walk instead of the other way around.

Enter “Clark.”

His pen at the SPCA (does anyone say “pound” anymore?) appeared empty when we first passed by (we discovered later he’d been hiding beneath his bed). Literally, as I bent down (waaaay down) to greet him at his gate, an adoption counselor suggested the family and Clark go to a private room together… and that, as they say, was that.

We traveled home to Pennsylvania that following Monday after his neuter. The Fauquier County SPCA brought him up to date on his shots, neutered, and micro-chipped him.

He’s a wire-haired dachshund—I’ll bet very close to full-bred, too. My daughter’s dog breed book says the wire-hair (terrier) was bred into the dachshund so that the coat would add a protective layer when the dogs were hunting in briars and brush. What would they hunt? Badgers, and sometime, foxes; amazing!

Clark turned one year old the day after Christmas and has settled in nicely here with us. Oh, let’s face it: WE LOVE HIM!!  He’s cuddly, smart, obedient, fun, and all-around adorable. You know that old animal adoption adage:  who rescued whom? Exactly.