The Wimp and the Super DachshundThe wimp discovered the super dachshund could fly, but only when no one was looking.

Tom didn’t see it as his own fault. He’d just got carried away once, lunged after a cat, yanked the lead harder than he meant, and the old lady fell. But Tom wasn’t malicious – instincts were instincts.

Life had a habit of snapping at Alex: “Don’t push, you don’t belong, step aside.” So Alex stepped aside. Life was right – better to keep your head down, stay healthy. Nature had taken its full toll on him: small, thin, weak.

At school they called him a wimp, and sometimes roughed him up for good measure. He had hardly any friends, just one – Paul.

“It’ll stop when I grow up,” Alex used to think. “Adults are sensible. They don’t give stupid nicknames or random clouts.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

*****

As an adult, the clouts did indeed improve – not common in the grown-up world to dish them out left and right. But the nicknames… they stuck.

They called him everything: runt, flea, titch, mouse. He’d get upset, but the real trouble was he never knew how to stand up for himself. Along with his meagre height came a crushing shyness.

That shyness held him back more than his plain looks ever did. New relationships never took off. So he only hung around with his old school friend Paul, and his mum while she was still alive.

Years passed. Alex worked as a stock clerk in a supermarket and didn’t even think about a personal life, even though the shop floor was ninety percent women.

But the ladies looked at him like a sort of “regimental mascot”. They fussed over him, protected him, brought him home-cooked meals. Why? Because he was “poor little thing”.

By the time he turned forty, he was an orphan. The kind-hearted women pitied him.

That went on until the day he met Mary. Mary was a woman with a capital W. Impossible to miss!

She combined height, ample curves, and a booming voice. She was magnificent.

Alex fell hopelessly in love. He was too scared to even approach her. Who was he to her? A flea, a pale moth, a speck! But life has a twisted sense of humour. And so, guided by that, it decided to bring the small, timid wimp together with the big, loud Mary.

The method life chose was clichéd but reliable. How many stories end with a rescuer falling for the rescued? Plenty! And so Mary once got to rescue Alex.

It happened like this. Alex was standing in line at the checkout. Behind the till sat the magnificent Mary. Alex turned pale, then red, fidgeted, and passed a carton of milk from hand to hand.

Then two young lads with bottles of booze shoved past the scrawny Alex.

“You’re behind us, mate. We’re in a hurry,” one said.

Any other day, Alex would have let them through without a word – but not today. Today Mary was watching!

“Come on, lads, get in line. My lunch break isn’t rubber either,” he squeaked.

“Don’t get shirty. We said you’re behind us, so you’re behind us!” One of them put his bottle on the belt.

The other turned and gave Alex a gentle shove in the chest. “Keep your distance, mate.”

Alex went red, opened his mouth, but Mary beat him to it.

“In order, please!” she boomed from behind the till. “And actually, young men, let me see your IDs. I might not be allowed to sell you alcohol at all!”

The lads got nervous.

“Come on, love, we’ve got seven kids at home, and you’re asking for ID,” one joked.

“Listen, ‘young fathers’, don’t mess me about. Either prove you’re over eighteen or bugger off home to your mum and dad,” Mary commanded.

Behind Mary, the security guard Pete perked up. So the “young fathers”, muttering under their breath, decided to scarper.

“Cheeky little brats!” Mary said angrily.

Then she looked at Alex and added gently, “Come on, Alex, let me check you out. You’ll miss your dinner otherwise. You need to eat – you’re too thin. Even the little chavs are picking on you.”

“Thanks…” Alex mumbled.

He wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“That’s it. Now I don’t stand a chance with Mary. I’ve made such a fool of myself. Scared of some lads! Though how was I supposed to know they were just kids? They were huge!” Alex fretted.

But it turned out completely the opposite.

From that day, Mary started treating him differently. She smiled, flirted, even brought him packed lunches from home. The other shop ladies stepped aside. Alex never knew what Mary had done to make that happen. He only once overheard a whisper:

“Our little mouse is Mary’s trophy now.”

“Fine by me. Maybe she’ll marry him and fatten him up properly.”

Alex wasn’t too bothered by being called a trophy.

“So she values me,” he decided. “That means she cares. And love is just a step away. For now, my love will do for both of us.”

This thought spurred him to action. Swallowing his shyness, he finally asked Mary out on a date.

She said yes. One thing led to another, dates turned into romance, and then they got married.

Only married life disappointed Alex. Mary immediately appointed herself head of the household. And that was fine – except her idea of a head was rather peculiar.

In her mind, the boss didn’t just make decisions and control everything; they also had the full right to discipline and punish.

Oh, how many times Alex got it from her for the smallest mistakes. He hung the chandelier wrong, he wiped the floor badly, he didn’t wash his own plate.

Alex put up with it. Despite everything, he loved his rescuer Mary. And he desperately wanted to be loved too. He hoped things could be different – that they’d settle down and live in harmony.

The illusions, along with the last scraps of love, were knocked out of him by a single clout.

“You pest, you wimp, you runt!” Mary ranted that evening. “Can you do anything right? Nothing to say? Well, you’d better tell me where to find another cup like this one! It was my gran’s, antique, my favourite. Your clumsy hands can’t even wash up! Oh, I just can’t with you!”

Alex didn’t have time to answer. When Mary ran out of words, she resorted to action. Her hand was heavy.

But when the stars cleared from his eyes, Alex understood: “Time to leave. I had enough cuffs as a kid.”

After a stormy divorce, Alex was once again disappointed in people and swore never to fall in love again.

*****

Life battered Bella too. And totally undeservedly. She was a beauty – black, long, big. Twelve kilos of joy!

Only somehow nobody wanted that much joy. So Bella passed from hand to hand.

Her first owner didn’t like her looks: “She’s some kind of overgrown dachshund, maybe a super-dachshund. Substandard. Not for me. Never wanted a mongrel.”

So he quickly palmed her off on a mate.

“What breed is that? A dachshund that grew too big?” he joked. “She’s huge! Her mum must’ve dallied with a basset hound. And what a bark! Perfect, she’ll guard my allotment.”

But guarding didn’t work out. Yes, she had a deep, threatening bark. Only Bella barked not when she saw potential enemies or thieves, but whenever the mood took her.

“You useless dog,” they scolded her. “Empty barker! You eat loads, can’t guard. But you’ve trampled all the flowers and dug up the lawn. We need to find you another owner.”

With difficulty, a new owner was found. A woman, actually. An elderly, pleasant lady in every way, but very slow. Bella vowed to be a good dog. But it didn’t work out.

Bella, though, didn’t see it as her own fault. She’d just got carried away once, lunged after a cat, yanked the lead harder than she meant, and the old lady fell. But Bella wasn’t malicious – instincts were instincts. And the lady was only shaken, thank God. Was that any reason to part ways? But people are incomprehensible.

“I can’t handle her!” the fallen owner complained on the phone to someone. “My life’s worth more than that. Find her a home somewhere. Or I’ll just let her out on the street.”

And that someone apparently tried hard. Bella got a family. A real family of three: a man, a woman, and a child.

“Bella, don’t bully little Andy!” the man ordered. “Or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Bella had no intention of bullying the little human. But he had other plans for her.

“You’re my pony,” four-year-old Andy declared, trying to ride her.

Bella twisted away and snapped. She was big, but no pony.

Andy got angry and cried. The woman got cross and shouted. The man grabbed his belt. Bella hid. Then the man went red, yelled, and threatened to take her to a shelter.

Nobody knew how it would end, but one day a friend came to visit the man. Bella crawled out from under the bed to see who’d arrived.

The friend turned out to be a small, thin bloke named Alex.

“What a weed,” Bella thought. “My man’s much bigger. This bloke’s probably substandard too, like me.”

“Hi, Paul, haven’t seen you in ages,” Alex hugged Bella’s owner. “I see you’ve got another addition. Got a dog? I finally divorced my wife.”

“About time, mate. And I want to ‘divorce’ this dog. I’ve regretted getting her a hundred times,” Paul sighed. “She’s badly behaved, snappy, growls at Andy, and when you tell her off, she hides under the bed. I’m thinking of giving her away.”

“Don’t be hasty. Why give her away?” Alex looked sympathetically at Bella. “Badly behaved, you say? But have you trained her? Telling off and punishing isn’t training. Take her to a dog trainer. I’m not a dog person… but they tried to straighten me out with shouting and cuffs – didn’t work.”

“What dog trainer, Alex? I don’t have time for my family, I work like a horse. The wife hasn’t got time either. Listen, since you’re so clever, why don’t you take Bella off our hands?” Paul suggested. “You’re single and free now. Train her to your heart’s content. It’s a good idea. Everyone wins: us, Bella, and you!”

“I’d take her, but will she come? She’s used to you, right?” Alex looked questioningly at Bella.

“I definitely like him,” Bella thought. “He talks sense, no kids as far as I can tell, and he’s unconventional himself. He’ll understand me quicker than others! I need to show I’m in!”

She wagged her tail twice.

“Look at that, she’s game!” Paul beamed. “Let’s hope you can handle her. And who knows, maybe you’ll meet your match on some dog walk.”

“Don’t go there. I’ve had enough,” Alex waved him off.

That evening, he and Bella left together.

*****

It turned out that handling Bella was far easier than handling his ex-wife. She didn’t act up, didn’t scream over trifles, and certainly didn’t lash out.

If she didn’t understand something the first time, she got it the second. What’s more, she loved Alex! He was everything to her: friend, master, her whole world.

They went to dog training classes together, walked in the park, learned, played, and bonded. And Alex was grateful that fate had nudged him to visit his old school friend that evening.

“Dogs are definitely better than people,” Alex thought. “Bella proves it. Smart, beautiful, obedient. Well, maybe not perfectly obedient yet, but that can be fixed.”

But he didn’t think that for long. It turned out there were wonderful people too: kind, sensitive, caring. Alex just hadn’t known where to find them before. Now he discovered – dog parks were full of them. He met many through Bella, and became friends with some.

And, you never know – maybe one day he’ll fall for a spitz owner or a Great Dane’s human. Not straight away, perhaps. But Alex doesn’t rule it out. He’s learned that life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it, and that sometimes the best connections come from the most unlikely places – even from a rescued, substandard dog.