five for five: five gotcha days with Harry

Time flies when you’re having fun… is there a more cliche phrase? But five years, half a decade, has flown by in what seems like the blink of an eye. Five years ago today, I met my favourite person, place, or thing. Five years ago, a short-legged, long-bodied, perpetually hungry little sausage came into my life and changed it forever.

For those who aren’t familiar with the term, a ‘gotcha day’ is the date you adopted your pet. An anniversary, if you will. Some people celebrate it, some people forget it entirely. Some people use it as an excuse to write a lengthy blog post about how much they love their pet – like me.

Five years deserves five things, right? So, in honour of Harry’s five-year Gotcha day, here are five things that I love about having this wonderful little wiener around.

big personality little body

In true Dachshund style, Harry takes up an enormous amount of space. Not physically, obviously, but presence wise. You can never be mistaken that he is around. The way he wiggles and prances when he knows he’s about to go outside is pure comedy gold. And the same advice given about gremlins can be applied to Harry… Don’t get him wet, expose him to bright lights, or feed him after midnight. Or else you might see him frolic and flail in a fashion that only a Benny Hill soundtrack could do justice to.

And speaking of bodies, the smell of his nacho cheese paws, which sounds gross, is one of my favourite things. I can’t really describe or rationalise why this scent is just so magnificent to me, but it’s familiar and will always remind me of Harry.

He’s got opinions, demands, and a confidence that suggests he has absolutely no idea he’s only about 30cm tall. And when he comes nose to nose with the Hungarian Vizslas and Rhodesian Ridgebacks at the park or at daycare, he truly believes he is one of them. Big personality, little body indeed.

companion cutie

Whether I like it or not, as long as Harry is around, I will always have a snuggle buddy on the couch. Always. It’s equal parts endearing and suffocating. But mostly endearing. Mostly.

Harry follows me everywhere—to the bathroom, to the shower, from room to room like I might disappear if he loses sight of me for thirty seconds. On the day I brought him home, I went to take a shower, only to have this 10-week-old dachshund detective blow down the shower door, searching for me. This is when he realised, he didn’t like water, and then took off around my apartment, covering close to every square inch in wet dog hair and paw prints.

Harry has made it his official job to sit upon my desk while I work from home. He is perched up next to me, surveying the neighbourhood and keeping me on task… well not really, I don’t think anyone can keep me on task.

Harry and I have had some incredible adventures. Whether that’s a sniffari around the neighbourhood or a road trip to a beach he’s never peed on before. He’s been to wineries and baby showers, parks and restaurants, and probably places he shouldn’t have been, but we won’t talk about that.

And honestly? He’s the best personal security detail I could ask for. Sure, he’s the size of a loaf of bread, but he doesn’t know that. In his mind, he’s fiercely protecting me from the chihuahuas across the hall, the building manager, and that one particularly suspicious tree down the street. I love him for it. Well, except for the time he ‘protected’ me from an English Staffordshire Terrier at the park, and I was left trying to remove his back legs from the staffy’s jaws.

friendship finder

Before having a dog, I could not name a single neighbour I had at the last three places I’d lived. Not one. Since getting Harry, I know every single one of my direct neighbours, as well as many others who live in my apartment complex and down the street. I know their dogs’ names, their work schedules, and which ones will give Harry belly rubs (he knows this too, and he’s shameless about it).

I’ve also become friends with people who also have dogs. What starts as “does your dog want to be friends with my dog?” turns into regular chats, park catchups, and actual friendships. I’ve made some incredible friends that started as dog friends but are now simply human friends. Harry made friends with Callie, a little Jack Russell Pug mix, and I became friends with her Dads, Colin and Scott. And after they moved away, we’ve made the 7 hour road trip to see them several times just so Harry and Callie get to spend the weekend together… and I get to see my friends.

Harry is basically my social coordinator, and he doesn’t even know it. Or maybe he does. He does seem to strategically pull me toward certain people.

professional greeter

When I pick Harry up from daycare in the afternoon, he shoots across the reception area like he’s been fired from a cannon and jumps into my arms, clambering up my body to give me one of his signature face licks. Then he shows off for his aunties at Scruffys, shaking paws and doing his little tricks like the complete show-off he is.

But it’s also the everyday greetings that get me—when I come home, whether it’s after a long shift or even just from taking the garbage out. It’s sort of annoying, sort of nice, to have someone that excited to see you every single time. But hey, some call it unabashed love, some call it separation anxiety. After he’s calmed down and stopped trying to lick my face off, he’ll come and snuggle up next to me on the couch, and all is right with the world.

Even on the worst days, someone is always genuinely thrilled that I exist. That’s pretty special.

the tiniest taskmaster

Harry is the closest thing to a child I will ever want. I didn’t quite realise how much responsibility it would be when I impulsively bought him off Gumtree after seeing Margot Robbie’s puppy on Instagram (yes, really—I may have mentioned this mishap in a previous post). But I think it’s something that’s changed me for the better, even if I don’t always appreciate it.

Without fail, Harry will always wake up between 5:00-5:30am. Every. Single. Day. Even if we’ve been to bed at 2am. Even on weekends. Even on public holidays. The concept of “sleeping in” is now a distant memory, a relic from my pre-Harry life. I do like, and have always been an early riser, so waking up this early is kind of a good thing. Kind of. Ask me again after three hours sleep, and I might give you a different answer.

But always needing to take him for a walk is a reason to get some exercise, a reason to go exploring. Without Harry, it could be very tempting to stay in bed well into the morning, bed rotting and doom scrolling through Instagram and YouTube until suddenly it’s 11am and I’ve achieved nothing. But when Harry wants his breakfast, there really is no ignoring him. He will stare at me. He will paw at me. He will lick me. He will make small, pathetic noises until his bowl is full of kibble.

He’s made me more disciplined, more active, and honestly, more present. I have to think about his needs, plan around his schedule, and show up for him every single day. My life has structure now, whether I like it or not. It’s not always convenient, but it’s worth it.

There are definitely times when I think not having a dog would make my life easier, or less expensive, or less loud. And I know that I’ve set myself up for the greatest heartbreak I will ever experience. But there isn’t a single day that I regret getting him. It’s hard work, especially in the early days (and I mean really hard—I cried a lot), but he is my absolute favourite thing in the world. Happy five years, Harry. Here’s to many more adventures, early wakeups, and nacho cheese paws.

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