For The Love Of Basset Hounds — Krystal N. Craiker, Author

One of the things the people in my life know about me is: I am obsessed with basset hounds. I’ve had internet friends who I’ve never had a conversation with tag me in pictures with bassets. And honestly, my obsession knows no bounds.

I don’t exactly know when my love of bassets started. I was really young when they became my favorite breed. I loved all dogs and at one point, my entire closet door was covered in pictures from dog calendars. But bassets have been my breed for as long as I can remember.

I was thirteen when I got my first basset mix. (Well, there’s a good chance the family dog we had before had some basset in him, but it was hard to know.) Said family dog, Pudgie, died, and I just can’t live without a dog. My mom took me to the SPCA in Dallas. On the way there, I told her, “I hope they have a basset hound.” My mom said, “I hope they have a cocker spaniel.”

We left with both in one dog. Slinky! She had short legs, floppy ears, and a looong body. She looked like a Slinky dog when she went down the stairs. Hence, the name. But her ears were shorter than a basset, and she was extremely fluffy.

(Also, she was most likely mixed with Brittany spaniel, not cocker, but we learned that later.)

Slinky was with me for ten years. She was with me through every major event in my teen years and early adulthood. She passed away from kidney disease in December 2013, during my first year of teaching.

So, after a week of coming home to an empty house, I couldn’t stand it. I needed another basset hound. Michael, then my boyfriend, and I were planning on going to see all the basset mixes at area shelters. There were like four, and one was an hour away. We were going on Saturday.

The picture my friend sent me. Darwin was about 12 weeks old here.

The Friday before, a friend from high school messaged me. She said she wasn’t sure if I was ready for another dog, but her friend had rescued a basset puppy off the street. He was staying with that friend’s mom, and they had too many dogs to keep.

I got Darwin that night. From a totally crazy lady and her even crazier roommate, but that’s a story for another time. He was about four months old.

Darwin is one of the best things to ever happen to me. The bond he and I have is incredible. He can sense my moods and the days I’m in pain. He doesn’t leave my side on the bad fibromyalgia days. I’ve dealt with some major PTSD and depression. Darwin has kept me alive with nothing else could. He has saved my life on multiple occasions, and he doesn’t even know it.

He’s derpy sometimes but also brilliant. He’s stubborn, and he protects me from (usually perceived) threats. I feel safe with him. He’s playful and loves the sound of his own voice. He curls into a ball to sleep, and he has the softest basset ears.

Darwin might be a mix, but his personality is full basset. And he embodies everything I love about the breed. They’re low-key and don’t need a lot of exercise. But they do need mental stimulation. They can be quite noisy. And they know exactly how to look at you to get out of trouble.

I’ve had a basset hound cookie jar that sadly broke. My kitchen timer is a basset hound. I bought a more expensive copy of Elements of Style just because it had a basset on the front. I follow dozens of bassets on Instagram.

The way to my heart is through short legs, long bodies, and droopy ears.