Go, Dog, Go!

It was a good dog-weather day. Several hundred onlookers, kids clad in hooded sweatshirts and parents in Patagonia zip-ups, crowded around a roped-off rectangular strip; a painted finish line glowed white against the still-green grass at Wayzata West Middle School. More than one of the contestants was shivering under its cape, though it wasn’t clear if this was a result of the early fall weather or simply excitement. One auburn-colored dachshund, in what appeared to be a hunter-orange life preserver, yapped happily at its owner’s feet. “I put a coat on him today,” shrieked the middle-aged woman to her friend.

The stage was set for the 22nd Annual Dachshund Races, “Where every dog is a WEINER,” as the T-shirts declare. The Animal Humane Society mobile unit was on hand, a canine emergency-aid station of sorts, and a concert tent arched against the background, set up for the evening’s musical climax to Wayzata’s James J. Hill Days.

The event began with the Parade of Champions. “Just as in the Kentucky Derby, the racing silks are very important,” the announcer intoned from beneath a watermelon umbrella. She continued, describing the conditions of the track and the quality of this year’s competition (there was talk of a littermate of last year’s winner being the favorite), while off to the side, volunteers sold—you guessed it—hot dogs.

The big dogs had come to watch. Away from the crowd, a pair of bull terriers wrestled gently between their leashes; one man reclined in the grass against his golden retriever. But the day was for the little guys; 120 were entered in the day’s festivities, and they came in a rainbow of colors. There were black dachshunds and brown ones and blond and brindle and spotted. Short-haired, wire-haired, and long-haired with fur growing out between their little toes. The day had the feel of a family reunion. Some participants were veterans of the event, and they greeted each other, dogs and owners alike, with familial enthusiasm.

The name dachshund is German for “badger dog,” in honor of the wild game the dog was bred to hunt. In the WWII era, the literal translation was briefly adopted as the dog’s name to disassociate it from its German roots. The American Kennel Club places the dachshund in the hound group, for its hunting prowess and keen sense of smell.

There are absurd but necessary ground rules at the dachshund races—namely, no throwing your dog from the starting gate and no pulling him over the finish line. The judges are lenient about false starts, and “do-overs” are frequent. Half a dozen dachshunds race in each heat, jumping three hurdles in the process. Usually, two or three of them race competitively, two zigzag around the hurdles, and one runs in circles. It’s also common for a contestant to run just short of the finish line before turning around to do another lap. During the semifinals, the barking level was elevated a notch, getting almost loud enough to drown out the exhortations of the owners. Some used deep, commanding voices; others were high-pitched and encouraging; one simply yelled, “La la la la, la la la-ah!” All manner of attention-getters were employed: jingling keys, the waving of encouraging signs and squeaking of favorite toys, and, of course, the enticement of treats. One woman pulled what appeared to be a massive barbecued chicken leg from a plastic bag.

The contest is about beauty as well as athleticism. Owners clearly took seriously the challenge of designing their dachshunds’ outfits. One dog wore a royal purple cape with braided gold trim; another contestant arrived in full Superman garb—the blue shirt, the red cape; and still another wore a matching green-felt cloak and cap with a Robin Hood-style orange feather. Literary names were prevalent—Dante, Atticus Finch, and Gretel—as were names from pop culture: Prada, Gonzo, Siegfried, and Lucy Liu.

One could protest that it is cruel or patronizing to dress up a pooch and race it around for the entertainment of laughing and pointing onlookers. The American Kennel Club officially opposes dachshund racing, citing the exploitation that’s befallen the greyhound as well as concern for the dachshund’s propensity for back injuries. While that’s all well and good, these dogs were clearly much-loved family pets, and they surely, with dachshunds’ tendency toward extra weight in the middle, can use a little exercise. In the end, perhaps the spirit of the event was best summed up by the advertising slogan of its sponsor: “Everything your pet doesn’t need but you love.”