Chencho

Yesterday, we had a long drive to a small village near Darmstadt, leaving 10 past 6AM, and returning a quarter past 3PM. And we returned not alone: our companion was a Spanish member of the European Union called Chencho. I’m sorry to say he didn’t trust me, at first. He had been sitting beside my wife in the back of the car, and knew her better, when we arrived, than the driver. But when it comes to scratching an ear, previous reserves are overcome. This is the poor beginning of –hopefully– a long series of Chencho pictures. It hasn’t been long since Robbie died, and I do feel a bit guilty about having “replaced” him so soon. The fact is: Robbie cannot be replaced, and Chencho is no replacement, but a family member in his own right. Another fact: it appeared to be too hard for us to live without a dog.

We had signed a contract including the provision that Chencho shouldn’t be held outside, or in the cellar. Chencho had evidently read it, and immediately claimed a place on the couch. However, it didn’t remain undisputed, and he had to share it (the anonymous lady on the right representing the Empire, of course...).

Eventually, Chencho won. How could it be different? The Force of Adorability was clearly with him... It’s hard to speculate on his ancestry. There may be some Dachshund in him, but I doubt if it’s the main ingredient: he is much more heavily built, and his small feet remind me of Bull Terriers, his mouth of Cocker Spaniels. No trace of malice, but that’s something I could already tell, when I first saw his pictures. “I’ve looked him in the eyes...”, and what works for George W. works also for me! I wonder what his voice will sound like. He’s still very quiet, but when I see how he’s developed in one day, he won’t be for long.

It doesn’t happen very often, but Chencho sometimes takes a nap. Only if he can feel confident that we’ll keep him company, of course. I took this picture from behind my desk; the opposite chair is about to become one of his favorite places to be.

It’s plain to see: Chencho is in his element. He’s just met one of the locals, who incidentally was born on Cyprus...

A new territory needs a flag.

Robbie used to be a nose dog: he didn’t see particularly well, and in the end, he was practically deaf. Chencho doesn’t have any of these handicaps, but he, too, clearly values his nose most.

Chencho is fine with us, but when he discovers other people approaching, he’s easily alarmed, even if they’re still 100 yards away. His tail disappears between his legs, and he would be gone but for us holding him back.

Generally, I have no difficulty to keep the camera quiet; for a sharp photo, I only need to focus on a subject excelling in the same virtue. A dog with a hobby doesn’t belong to that category.

Most of the time, Chencho is too lively for having his portrait made. Here I caught him in our garden while he was attentively watching people passing by.

It has been argued that the average life expectancy of the Basset fauve de Bretagne is greatly deminished by their urge to follow a trail at all costs and, as a consequence, being run over by a car. Chencho shows every sign of belonging to that breed. We’ll have to be careful.

Chencho is like a tape recorder, his features including fast forward, stop, and rewind. That’s only natural for a member of the bloodhound family. We don’t mind if he takes his time studying, though we don’t always share his interests.

After a long walk –it’s Spring, hurray!– I forced Chencho to pose for me in our garden (he grudgingly assented). Almost all pictures I got a chance to take were from behind, and though his tail is a joy to watch, it isn’t quite his best part.

This is how Chencho looks when he’s hungry. That camera looks tasty!

What dog’s that? It’s a deuce, look at it. – Pete Townshend (The Who, “Dogs”). The answer might well be: a “Basset fauve de Bretagne” (or as we Anglophiles prefer: a “Fawn Brittany Basset”). The easier question is this: Does it matter? Nope, it’s a deuce, look at it!

There are moments I’m excused for my pictures not being sharp.

I’d say this looks like a pretty happy dog.

The harness is new. Chencho somehow managed to destroy the first one. No crying over spilt milk: red becomes him.