Rommel is my classic red dachshund and my gateway doxie — the one who started it all. My husband gave him to me for our 15th anniversary, and I’ve been hopelessly wiener-dog obsessed ever since.

Rommel is a world-class hunter (the cats don’t stand a chance) and a fetch addict. Ball. Squeaky toy. Random object. If it can be thrown, he’ll chase it until he collapses in a dramatic heap of exhaustion with his tongue hanging out like he just finished a marathon.

When he’s not hunting or sprinting, Rommel enjoys stretching out in a sunbeam and demanding frequent, deeply satisfying scratches.

Franzi joined us about a year and a half after Rommel, and I fell for her instantly. As a 12-week-old puppy, she attacked a candy wrapper like it owed her money — and I knew she was meant for me.

She was passed over by her original litter because she had an extra set of ribs and wasn’t “show quality.” Joke’s on them — this girl has ten times the spirit of any dog I’ve ever met.

Franzi is a real dachshund: a digger, a hunter, and sometimes a little too brave for her own good. She’ll challenge geese, rattlesnakes, coyotes… anything that crosses her path. Hunting is her passion — though food is a very close second. Between her mighty appetite and Cushing’s Disease, she’s lovingly earned the family nickname “Foodsy.”

Monkey was our third addition and, despite being fully grown, will always be “the baby” to me. He’s a rescue — the product of careless breeding — and came with a handful of challenges: he’s blind in one eye, developmentally quirky, and also has Cushing’s Disease.

I rescued him from being dumped at the pound, and he fit into our pack immediately. Dogs don’t judge each other the way humans do, and Monkey is living proof of that. Disabilities or not, he chases after Franzi on hunts like he’s invincible.

He’s also a world-class cuddler (unlike Rommel and Franzi), a surprisingly graceful dancer, and has a bark so loud it could rattle the cookware. His joy is absolutely contagious.

Hank is another rescue with a rough start. He was hit by a car and taken to a shelter where one of our foster kids worked. His right hind leg healed with a little “hop,” giving him his nickname: Hop-Along Hank.

He might be the smallest of the doxie crew, but he’s definitely not the meekest. Show him a squirrel and he transforms into a fearless, laser-focused hunter. He may not be as single-minded or destructive as Franzi and Monkey in their digging crusades, but once the pack springs into action, Hank dives right in without hesitation.

He’s pure heart wrapped in a scrappy little body.

Hercules is the newest addition — an adorable, giant-pawed, oversized-eared puppy who joined the family at just three months old. His parents were a classic red and a black-and-tan doxie, and Herc inherited the best of both worlds.

He’s still growing into his ears (and probably will be for a while), but he’s already the size of Hank and might end up being the biggest doxie in the house. He has the swagger of a seasoned dachshund and the tunnel-vision hunting instincts of Franzi and Monkey.

Unfortunately for my husband, this means Herc is probably destined to become yet another “yard-crater creator.” But honestly? We adore him anyway.