First up, Brigitte Bardot. As you probably know, Ms. Bardot is a friend to animals everywhere. Her foundation has even set up a sanctuary for bears in Bulgaria. But no species could be more flattering as bombshell accessory than a dachshund.
Carole Lombard, the Profane Angel, the Queen of Screwball Comedy was a dachshund lover. Her hound, named Commissioner, is pictured at left among other assorted pets. Legend has it that Commissioner ignored Carole's husband, one Clark Gable, until Carole died, at which point the dog became attached to him.
And in weird beauty history, Ms. Lombard underwent facial reconstructive surgery after an accident... without the use of anaesthesia, which was believed to increase scarring. Good thing dachshunds can be so comforting.
On a sad note, here is the late Brooke Astor with one of her beloved dachshunds, either Boysie or Girlsie (my best bet is Girlsie.) Some were concerned with the fate of the pets when Ms. Astor passed away, but not to worry, they were adopted by Ms. Iris Love.
Brooke always loved the breed. Here she is in younger days with two blonder companions.
Joan Crawford was also susceptible to a dachshund's many charms. I infer from the look on this pup's face that he has just seen Christina carrying in a wire hanger and senses the gathering storm. Sorry, easy shot and I took it.
This one probably belonged in yesterday's category of dachshund as art muse. A tasteful nude, with small hounds, by Man Ray.
Actress and longtime mistress to William Randolph Hearst, Marion Davies looks adorable with a bow in her platinum curls and a glossy dog in her arms.
Ginger Rogers is a personal favorite of mine. I grew up watching her dance in movies with my mother and grandmother, and when I was about twelve, I got to meet her backstage in a local musical production. She was nearly eighty then and still very sparkly. At left she graciously accompanies her dachshund to an important interview.
Finally Shirley Temple, with whom I have a complicated relationship. As a toddler I was told by endless adults that I looked just like her. I hated this, loathed all reference to my dimples and curls. And yet. I spent many hours alone in my room playing her records over and over. And when her movies came on, I watched rapt, dancing along. I was confused at the time, but now it makes sense. I envied her for what she had that I did not: a dachshund friend, with an extra-sharp snout.