#doxies

For many people, a wiener dog is just a short little pupper with a hard-to-spell name and a shocking number of inappropriate puns. But if a dachshund is the love of your life, you know they’re the best dogs around. Here are some of our favorite facts about dachshunds, one of the world’s most beloved dog breeds. 

1. They don’t know they’re short

Dachshunds have big personalities for their size, and they’re not about to be ignored. With a surprisingly loud bark and an eager, affectionate personality, the dachshund is small only in stature.

2. Dachshunds are fearsome hunters

They were originally bred to hunt badgers in their underground lairs, along with burrowing rabbits and other small animals. In fact, in Germany, dachshunds are still measured by the size of the rabbit hole they can fit into.

3. Dachshunds love to burrow

Can’t find your doxie? Check your bed, the laundry basket, or even a cozy sleeve.

4. Doxies come in many varieties

With 15 colors, six marking types, three coat types, and three sizes, in fact. In America, the most popular type of dachshund is the standard smooth coat.

5. Dachshunds are notorious diggers

Dachshunds can dig with energy and purpose, and they like nothing better than a nice mud pile for their enjoyment.

6. What’s in a name?

The name “dachshund” is German, meaning “badger dog.” They’re also commonly called “wiener dogs” in reference to, yes, sausages. Dachshunds have many nicknames! Weenie, doxie, sausage dog—and the list goes on. In modern Germany, they’re often called Dackels or Teckels (among hunters.)

7. Dachshunds can be stubborn as heck

They are tenacious, intelligent, and can be very goal-focused. Dachshunds may be small, but they’re definitely working dogs at heart!

8. Senior dachshunds often need ramps

Dachshunds are prone to back problems, or more specifically, disc herniation. This is partly due to their shape, but also due to a gene that creates mineral deposits within the discs of their spine. IVDD, or intervertebral disc disease, affects about 25% of doxies.

9. Dachshunds can bark

Wiener dog lovers know it—these dogs are not quiet! Because of their hunting origins, they’re naturally inclined to alert you to danger. Or just, you know, if the mail carrier is outside.

10. Dachshunds are the smallest hounds

And that’s official! This wee scent hound is the smallest member of the AKC Hound group.

11. Doxies. Love. Food.

This breed is definitely food-motivated. Treat training, here we come.

12. Dachshunds live a long time

My design for a doxy! They have 2 pairs of legs and two pairs of arms, with the second pair being adapted for grasping prey like a mantid. They have a two pairs of eyes, giving it a large sight range. The tips of their narrow ears transition into antennae, and they have two sets of teeth- one sharp set of unspecialised vertebrate teeth, and behind them a set of arthropod mouthparts equipped with articulated chelicera.

Their heads, torsos and innermost limb segments are covered with insect hair like a spider, with the rest of them being shiny sclerotised exoskeleton. The normal colouration is black hair with black or indigo exoskeleton. The wings differ in colour from completely clear to translucent blue, purple, pink or teal. I have not yet decided whether the wings are more beetle or damsel fly shaped- the source material says beetle but I like damselflies and dragonflies so much plus I have researched their flight mechanism way more. I'd probably go with damselfly.

I have been playing with the idea that they are primitively eusocial and haplodiploid but will come back to this later when I am done with exams.

(Newtina ❤️. Thanks @night-owling415 for the dialogue prompt. This was enjoyable to sit with awhile. Ultimately, here I am letting words flow without a plan, eager to hear the story that unfolds. I think the prompt will soften. I’m trying to be patient in this slow beginning.)

Tina wondered about the Newt who existed beneath the layers he wore on the surface. Clothing covering more clothing was armor, necessary for his work. So far she’d seen his toes stepped on, pants ripped, and suspenders sliced across one shoulder. He was careful with creatures, confident, playful, gentle, so gentle.

Newt was more armored with people — holding back, cautious. Three seasons of letters to her he’d signed without a closing, only “Newt Scamander,” and then later just “Newt”.

Letting formality fall away had been the first layer he’d taken off for her. After reading each one, she traced the nakedness of his given name on the parchment. She felt his desire for familiarity. “Dear Tina.” Each letter had drawn her deeper into her own emergence.

Formality was the layer she put back up to steel herself against vulnerability when she thought he was marrying someone else. “Mr. Scamander” had been safer to say; even though her heart ached in the asceticism after a spring and summer of blossoming interest and ease.

Tina wore layers too, mostly within her skin. She was quick to put them on and generally slow to let them fall away. She learned that kind of armoring as a child. She’d already lost so much.

She could feel herself soften in moments when she caught glimpses of the depths of Newt. She couldn’t stop the softening. A part of her didn’t want to stop it. In letting her guard down and allowing herself the tenderness of her feelings, she found herself opening.

She imagined the potential for uncovering rawness. She wanted Newt unguarded. She wanted to know more fully the fabric of the heart he showed readily with his creatures. She was curious about the textures of his body beneath those layers. Falling for him was compelling.

Paris had offered Newt clarity about the lengths he was willing to go to get to Tina, to be with her, to acquire her understanding. The brief but impactful communion with her, along with shared loss, solidified an awareness of feeling that he didn’t know how to convey to her and was afraid to express.

What if she ran again? What then? What would he do with his overwhelming desire for her to stay. Wanting her here in his home with her coat off and her blouse unbuttoned at the collar — further even — was something he thought about. He blushed in the yearning. He wanted more with her and was afraid of the intensity.

Could he afford to let himself feel this way? Since Paris, loss had been forefront in his mind. In all his life, no one had clung to him as intently as Theseus did in the moments after Leta’s death. Newt had never before embraced a person with such empathy. In those moments of connection with his brother, he’d begun to realize his capacity for that. He felt the shock of love lost and the pain of grief.

Tina had long known grief was a price of love. She’d paid it a thousandfold when her parents died. Queenie joining Grindelwald in his circle of fire had stabbed at that early life wound which had never healed. The heartbreak was fresh again and bleeding. Could she afford to be vulnerable now?

Each of them ruminated on these questions in moments of silence. Cognitively, the thoughts felt self absorbed and fanciful. After all, their priorities were planning the next move against Grindelwald and getting Queenie and Credence away from him. But ruminating minds are beyond cognitive control. The thoughts that come in, whether by creeping along the spine or barreling straight to the core like a freight train, simply are whatever they are.

Tina leaned back on Newt’s cot in the basement. That night she felt the freight train as she watched him tend to the creatures’ evening routines. He’d sent Bunty home early to her apparent chagrin.

“She likes you,” Tina pointed out the obvious.

“Who?”

“Bunty.”

“Bunty?”

“She’s smitten with you.”

“What? Why ever would you think so?”

“The way she looks at you when you look away.”

Newt wasn’t sure how to respond. The thought of someone being smitten with him was a foreign concept. “I... I don’t... I wouldn’t... I mean, she’s a capable assistant. She cares about the creatures. But it’s not her that I...”

“It’s not her that you... what?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that either. “It’s not her that... It’s not her.”

Their conversation was interrupted by buzzing in a far corner of the basement. It started out faint and quickly grew louder.

“That would be the Doxies,” Newt said, “They must be hatching early.”

“Do you need...”

“Please stay here. The hatchlings can be feisty. Back in a moment.” Newt disapparated, grateful for the escape. A swarm of 500 newly hatched ‘Biting Fairys’ he could handle more easily than talking about his feelings.

He apparated to the vicinity of the Doxies’ underground nest and approached slowly. “Hello, little ones,” he spoke softly to the swarm, “You’re a surprise. Let’s keep you safe.”

With a flick of his wand, Newt encased the Doxies in a large bubble open to the ground, leaving space for those not yet hatched to emerge and join their siblings. Unfortunately he missed one behind him. The Doxy flew into the collar of his shirt and became trapped along his spine.

“Ouch!” Newt muttered as he was bitten. “You’re alright. You’re alright,” Newt tried to soothe the Doxy while quickly unbuttoning his shirt. “Ouch!” he uttered again at the second and third bites.

As Newt shrugged off his shirt, the Doxy flew free. Newt flicked his wand again and encased the hatchling in the bubble with the others. “There you go. You’re safe now. Is that everyone?” He glanced around to be sure then apparated back to his work station.

Tina was surprised to see Newt show up not wearing his shirt. She sat straight up on the cot, wondering what was happening.

“It’s just a few bites. Nothing a dose of antivenom and some Dittany won’t fix.”

“Newt...” Tina bolted from the seat and was at his side. She could see the bite marks on his back bleeding slightly and starting to swell, “What can I do?”

“Doxy venom is highly poisonous, but not to worry,” Newt opened a drawer and a bottle and swallowed three pills. “We surprised each other, you see. I didn’t expect them to hatch until next week. One of the swarming babies got caught in my shirt. And, well... as I mentioned, they can be feisty.”

Newt reached next for a bottle of Dittany. His hands were shaking from the effects of the poison. “The antivenom should take effect soon, but I should sit down now.”

Tina took the bottle of Dittany from his hand. “Let me help.”

“Alright. That would be... That would be lovely.” He sat on the cot just as the room started to spin.

Tina sat behind him, uncapped the bottle and filled the dropper. “How many drops on each bite?”

“Four should be good. Doxies have two rows of teeth on top and two on the bottom.” Newt leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” Tina asked, applying the Dittany as he instructed. “What more can I do?”

The concern in her voice was endearing to him. “It’s just a little dizziness. That’s to be expected. The bites are deep. Doxies are small, but their heads are mostly teeth. Perhaps you could rub the Dittany into each of the bites... if you’d be comfortable with that.”

“I can handle it,” she spoke gently with her hands on his back, touching each wound with tenderness. She caressed him in circles, “Like this?”

“Yes. This is...” Newt couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence. As the dizziness began to subside, he became incredibly aware of the sensation of Tina’s hands on him.

“...Okay?” she asked.

“It’s... very good.”

She took a deep breath. ‘Very good’ were the words for this. Newt felt solid in her hands. Strong and beautiful. His back was marked from years of working with magical beasts.

“I want to know these stories.” she said.

“Stories?”

“Of each of these...” She touched more of him than he’d asked, exploring each scar with her fingertips.

He’d never been touched before with such intimacy. He’d never been seen like this nor asked for the stories of his scars. It was daunting. ...But this was Tina. I can handle this.

“Can I have yours too?”

My scars? ...”My stories?”

“Yes.”

“Mine are less interesting.”

“Not less interesting to me.” Everything about you is interesting to me.

Tina stilled her hands and let them rest on his back. The bite marks were already fading with help from the Dittany. There was no more bleeding and the swelling had gone down.

“Tina... Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Not just yet. I...”

She slid her hands up to the back of his neck. “Are you still dizzy?”

“Somewhat.” Though not from the venom. From this. With you. Like this.

“Do you want to lie down?”

With you? ...Yes. ...But no, she’s not asking that. “That’s not necessary. The antivenom is working. I should feel better soon.”

She inched closer to him and stroked his back with more pressure, careful to circle around the faded remnants of each Doxy bite. Tina recognized there was no medical reason to still be touching him. But she didn’t want to stop, and he’d asked her not to stop, so obviously he wanted this too.

“Then can we just stay like this awhile?” she asked.

“Yes,” he sighed.

She traced each muscle, investigating. This was her opportunity to start to know his inner layers. She felt a compulsion to kiss the freckles on his shoulders, but she held back. He didn’t ask for that much. We haven’t... This is already... Her heart was the freight train now. She breathed through the intensity.

“Newt, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why are there Doxies hatching in your basement when there actually are extermination guides for them?”

Newt chuckled. “Doxies are largely unstudied, for obvious reasons. Their venom has interesting properties. I’m curious about practical applications.”

“Like Swooping Evil?”

“Different applications, but yes, like that.”

“Oh.” Tina smiled in the memories of their days together in New York. That balance between wildness and containment fascinated her. Newt fascinated her, even as she cringed at the thought of sharing space with 500 pests that any other wizard would vanquish straightaway with Doxycide or a Knockback Jinx.

But Newt wasn’t any other wizard . He was Newt.

“Tina?...”

“Yes?”

“You know it’s not Bunty that I look at when she looks away. ...You know that.”

Tina scooted even closer. She touched his arms and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I know.”

Her touch, her understanding, was a freight train inside him too.