Of Daddies, Daughters, and Dachshunds

We have three dachshunds. Rufus, Sally, and GiGi. They are the remnants of one of our get rich schemes: Sunnyside Kennels. Which never really took off. All in all, they are good dogs. Dachshunds are excellent kid dogs, so long as they are raised from puppies with children. However, they have one terrible trait. Their all consuming passion to escape. Bred to follow badgers and other ground creatures into their burrows, dachshunds are wonderful diggers and not a'feared of anything, despite their short stature.
Our dogs are no exception. Over time, our hurricane fence became a high security enclosure with concrete under most of the perimeter and metal clips stuck deep into the ground. Each time they would dig out, we would get out the sack-crete and fill the hole and add some extra clips around it. But that was at our old house.
This back yard has no fence, and we cannot build one until we close on the house. At first we kept the dogs in a little outbuilding, but they escaped from there no less than five times. Last weekend, the master built a temporary fence, but with extra fencing pushed into the soil. He spent over four hours building it and in a little more time than that--you guessed it--the Houdini hounds figured out a way to climb it, flopping their long noodle-like bodies over it in a most ridiculous fashion.
Back into the shed they went. The master was pretty frustrated. But when they--by rushing at them at morning feeding and running lose all over the neighborhood--made Abby late for school on Tuesday, and K late for school on Wednesday, he came to the conclusion that the dogs had to go. That day. He got on the phone and found a home for each of them. He was taking them first thing on Thursday.
For my part, I was as tired of the situation as he was, but doubtful of the plan to give the dogs away. I warned him that the children would be heartbroken, and I was concerned about what message it would send Marina. She is very sensitive to abandonment themes. Every time we watch the Disney movie, Oliver and Company, she will seek me out within the first five minutes (when Oliver is the only kitten not chosen from his litter and is left out in the rain) and tell me that the show makes her sad. Of all the children, Marina likes the dogs the least. She never plays with them or pets them. Even when Sally has had puppies--driving the other kids wild with excitement--she had no interest in them, and is more than mildly annoyed when the dogs jump up on her and dirty her clothes. Still, my mommy-gut wondered how giving the dogs away would make her feel and I worried how it would all play out with her. It had nothing to do with her attachment to the dogs, everything to do with her attachment to us. But the master was firm. He was the head of the house and he felt this was for the best. OBKB....But I opted to be gone when he broke the news.
I came home from choir Wednesday night to find a big puddle of mush in my kitchen. The kids were all in bed, and I asked how had the dog discussion gone. The master looked at the floor. "I caved," he mumbled.

Me: What?

The Master: only slightly louder I caved.

Me: mock surprise No, surely not you!

The Master: looking very sheepish indeed I explained it all...how it wasn't fair to keep the dogs in the shed. That it wasn't a good life for them. But that we couldn't let them run around the neighborhood messing up other people's yards and property. I told them that when we could build a good fence, we would get a new dog. A bigger breed that wouldn't be as prone to getting out. Abby tried to be brave--she kept nodding her head in agreement--but she couldn't help the big tears from rolling down her cheeks...it was the nodding that got me..and then when it finally clicked in Marina's head that the dogs were being sent away, she began to weep bitterly. 'Please don't make the dogs go away.' So, I relented.

Me: triumphantly You are so whooped. Those girls have you right where they want you. Well, what are we going to do about the dogs?

The Master: I said I would fix the fence and make it higher......But if they get out ONE MORE TIME.....

Me: Uh-huh. then in my best sing-song I told you so.

And he did fix the fence. He stayed up all night working on it. The question remains: Will they, or won't they?