Diana may be tiny but she’s had a huge impact

By Lethbridge Herald on March 7, 2025.

Herald photo by Al Beeber - Diana, a chiweenie (chihuahua and dachshund mix) moved into the Beeber household from Prairie Pet Rescue this past December.

LEAVE IT TO BEEBER – Al Beeber

Where’s the rest of her? It was the first thought that came to mind when we were introduced to Diana by Prairie Pet Rescue in December.

She looked so much bigger in the photos that I kept going back to on the rescue organization’s website when I decided to seek another companion for Izzy and myself after the death of Ben, who was euthanized in November after suffering from kidney failure.

The house just wasn’t the same without my longtime pal who walked with me, napped with me, ate with me and made me move off his pillow. Izzy was out of sorts, too; she would walk around the house looking for him. On walks, she would constantly scour the surroundings for Ben and really seemed to go into a depression.

So I started looking for a new playmate for her and a companion for me. Few details were available about Diana except she was a young adult who needed to go into a home with another dog and that she had limited previous human contact.

This chihuahua cross – who is clearly a chiweenie (a mix of chihuahua and dachshund) – was a dog I just needed to meet.

And on Dec. 7 she was presented to us. Tiny, frisky, shy but charismatic, she went straight to Liz and that was it – we were bringing home a new dog. The day of the Herald staff party. Three weeks before Christmas. As if anybody needs more stress during the holidays.

I call her Ben’s Revenge because the dog who was meant to be a new companion for me and Izzy has decided who her favourite person is. And it sure isn’t me.

But that’s life with a chihuahua as I’ve quickly learned – they can be a one-person dog. Over the many weeks I’ve been working from home, she has warmed up to me. But it has been a slow work in progress. She’ll sit on the kitchen table watching me write or on the chair beside me.

After about three weeks, she began curling up beside me on the sofa as I had my morning coffee after she finally woke up. And unlike any other dog I’ve owned, Diana – who we call Lady Di or Princess Diana – is not into mornings at all. She is content to be curled up under a blanket while activity begins around her. But once she stops moving, Diana doesn’t quit.

While she’ll now let me rub her belly and grudgingly gives butterfly kisses, I still can’t pick her up unless she wants to be picked up and that is seldom.

At eight inches tall and only seven pounds, she is tiny but fearless. She’ll leap off beds, sofas and chairs to chase toys and squeakers and harass Izzy, who never lays a paw in anger on her new housemate even when ears, throat and ankles are being chewed.

Diana can have no mercy on Izzy who seems to realize she actually has a playmate in the house now who wants to run and be chased. Ben was not that kind of dog – he just wanted to chill by himself or go for walks with his dad. Even at the park, unless he found a pal like Strider or Maggie who he became obsessed with, he was mostly nonchalant and disinterested.

Now Izzy has a companion who from daylight to dusk seldom quits moving. And it’s exhausting watching her. With a fear of a leash and collar, Diana hasn’t come for any walks yet and with such a tiny body with little padding, she doesn’t spend much time outdoors, especially on cold days.

And she’s never been housetrained, her reliance on puppy pads being a bit frustrating and I am truly thankful for Bob and Jean at the dog park for donating a bag of theirs that Cassie no longer uses.

With more spring-like temperatures recently, Diana, though, is discovering the backyard and learning what she should be doing out there. But plastic carpet runners and pads can now be found in a couple of rooms in the house.

She also has an affinity for squeakers and, thanks to a bag of 100 I bought for $16, Diana has all the toys she needs and wants. And a dad who spends a big part of the day retrieving them from under beds, sofa and ottoman because she’s particular.

Even when six are on the floor, if Di wants a certain one, that’s the squeaker I have to get her. And I don’t argue. What the princess wants, the princess gets.

I’m her squeaker person and the guy whose robe she has decided is hers for scrunching up on the sofa to curl up in and to sleep under at night. But when her mom gets home, I no longer exist. I’m her human servant eight hours a day then I’m invisible.

And I’m learning this is the way of the chihuahua. The human doesn’t adopt the dog, the dog adopts the human.

Because of her size, I spend a lot of time sweeping and vacuuming because she can get into places one would never expect to see a dog. And a person has to be especially careful because you never know where she’ll be until it’s too late.

At dark, treading lightly is also crucial because an errant foot on squeaker will rouse her from sleep for a session up and down the hallway gleefully squeaking in the dead of night until she tires again.

Like Rio the shepherd, Di hears everything and the slightest rattle of a vine against the house can provoke her to howl like a demon. She even alerted me to a car prowler recently just like Rio would have done. The shrill sound of her voice is nothing like I’ve ever heard before. It’s astounding that such a large noise can come from such a miniscule mouth.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. The spark this little dog has brought to the house is priceless. She’s a treasure and one day I’m hoping she’ll tolerate me enough to put a leash on so I can introduce her to the neighbourhood and the dog park.

But that’s all up to her. I don’t tell Princess Diana what to do – that’s for her to decide.