Wally

I love a good sausage dog – just love them.

I suspect this puppy love is based on the silhouette – it’s a silhouette that screams GSOH (GoodSenseOfHumour) more than any other. I suppose sausages are themselves similarly blessed with more than their fair share of gags, from Punch and Judy to any primary school playground, so it is perhaps no surprise that the daschund should raise a smile.

They probably don’t have more humour than their shorter comrades. It’s probably like expecting people with glasses to be more intelligent – though that has always worked in my case, I must say.

Anyway, judge for yourself, here’s Wally:

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Here’s Wally. Of course, it’s hard to write that, without imagining the previous question of Where’s Wally? at which point, visions of daschunds wearing striped tops, hiding behind insufficiently long sofas, start dancing in my head. It could be the next publishing phenomenon – spot the rear end of the daschund.

Well, perhaps not. Wally doesn’t look like he’d enjoy that. In fact, the more I look into his rather soulful eyes, the more I feel I should apologise for even mentioning his rear end, or indeed, for over-enjoying the length between that rear end and those soulful eyes. Wally seems to me to have heard all the jokes before, and to have tired of them. Note how he turns himself towards the camera, to disguise the other glorious length, that of his nose in a foreshortened puzzle of perspective for the artist (thanks for that Wally). Still, I had to stop smiling at his beauty, and get down to work. And so I did.

And now there’s a bit of a gap in the recording – there was lots of stitching and unpicking and more stitching, and lots of grey afternoon light rapidly giving way to dusk. Until one day, there was Wally, hiding in plain sight in the middle of my desk.

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And talking of soulful eyes:img_9847

Here he is, trying on different frames:

 

And finally, it being around Christmas, he ended up, for a time, on my tree.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, A daschund in a birch tree.

Well, I wouldn’t say no…

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