On a hot, sunny day in Millcreek, Carlotta sprinted down a green track, leaving her competitors in the dust. Surprisingly — maybe — other athletes stopped short of the finish line to sniff the ground, more interested in exploring new smells than winning glory.
Carlotta, like all of the racers, is a dachshund.
This is the third annual Millcreek Doxie Derby. About 250 short-legged, long-bodied canines came from all over Utah and across the nation to compete.
For each of the 25 heats, the racers lined up at the start line. As each pooch was introduced, owners held them up like Simba in The Lion King.
“We got Olive, a one-and-a-half-year-old female from West Valley,” said announcer Brad Wheeler as the crowd cheered. “She's a Gemini. She's into anything with a squeaker.”
The March 28 event sold out all 4,000 tickets. Some spectators leaned over white barricades to get a look. Others watched on one of the jumbotrons displaying the tiny athletes with their ears flapping in the wind.
Wheeler, a blues musician who moonlights as a wiener dog race organizer, played the Kentucky Derby’s “Call to the Post” on his harmonica. The crowd counted down along with him, and at ‘GO’ the owners released the hounds.
Befitting a daschund’s famously tiny legs, the track was less than 25 yards long. The race was over in seconds.
Each owner had a receiver at the finish line waiting to pick up the dog. Some had props, like a squeaky toy or a bag of treats, to entice their racer. One unscrewed a large jar of peanut butter.
The importance of the bribe is a lesson that Salt Lake City resident Miguel Cendejas learned last year. He has two black-furred dachshunds in pink and purple tutus, 3-year-olds Leia and Rey.
“Last year we raced, and we didn't do the best,” Cendejas said. “They just freaked out, a lot going on.”
This year at the finish line, he said they had a “secret weapon”: a large radio-controlled car that Leia and Rey like to chase. While the team is prepared, he’s not taking the competition too seriously.
“I just wanted to see wiener dogs. And I think it's so funny,” Cendejas said. “They’re just built different.”
A long-time wiener dog owner, Cendejas also owned Leia and Rey’s parents.
It’s clearly a thing. Other competitors had similar stories of having owned or wanting multiple dachshunds. It isn’t just Utah that’s obsessed with them. For 2025, the American Kennel Club declared dachshunds the fifth most popular breed in the nation, replacing poodles.
“I have two wiener dogs. There's definitely a community that's growing [in Utah],” said Sharon Turner, a volunteer for the Rocky Mountain Dachshund Rescue. “It just seems like dachshund fans stick together.”
While Millcreek’s derby is only in its third year, its size rivals those of others across the nation that have been going for more than a decade, and its organizers think it's one of the largest.
Wheeler, the race’s announcer and one of its organizers, might seem like an unlikely advocate of wiener dog racing.
“I have no wiener in this race,” Wheeler said, ironically. “I am a cat guy.”
He got into this by accident. Several years ago, Wheeler’s friend Kevin Kirk had an anniversary party for his store, The Heavy Metal Shop. Kirk wanted a wiener dog race.
“He said, ‘I know you have a megaphone, and I just feel like you could do it,’” Wheeler remembered.
It took a couple of tries to get the 10 or so dogs to run the right way. But when they did, Wheeler said it was hypnotic.
“Just something about the way that they undulated, something about the way that they ran in a pack, something about the way they looked at each other,” Wheeler said with a smile. “It was ridiculous. It was so ridiculous, but it felt incredible.”
After hosting some more one-off wiener dog races at bigger events, Wheeler’s friend Kim Angeli suggested creating a standalone race at Millcreek. Angeli, who has a corgi, built her career on putting together community events.
That first year, they had a turnout of about 150 dogs — bigger than they expected. Last year, more than 6,000 people attended, and they had to call the police department to help with traffic.
The core of the event, Angeli believes, is the love people have for their pets.
“Pets are such an important part of our lives as humans,” she said. “There's nothing but joy to be had when you bring a gathering together of pets.”
Other breeds were also at the Doxie Derby, some dressed in hotdog costumes to support their canine friends. Angeli jokingly called them “impostors.” And there was a race for senior dachshunds, the oldest being 19 years old.
It’s a joy that Wheeler and Angeli want more people to experience. They recently started the National Wiener Dog Racing Association.
They’re “silly serious” about the race, Angeli said. Not taking it too seriously, but they do have rules. For example, all four paws must start on the ground — no throwing your dog on the track. And if there’s a false start, they redo the race. There’s a camera set up for rounds with a photo finish.
Fiona, a one-and-a-half-year-old with reddish fur from Ogden, had an entire group of supporters. They wore shirts with “Pit Crew” on the front and “Fiona the Mayhem Missile. Sausage of Mass Destruction” on the back
“Dachshunds are just iconic, and so an opportunity to be surrounded by a bunch of weens and just have love and dogs today just felt right,” said Fiona’s owner, Carlie Benson. “And we knew our special little girl would want an opportunity to be among her own kind.”
Fiona had some spring training, Benson said, but in the end, she didn’t make it across the finish line because Fiona didn’t want to leave her mama.
Philip, a Salt Lake-based dachshund, also had difficulties reaching the finish. He ran pretty far, but the wrong way.
When asked if the first-time racer had done any training, Philip’s owner, Hillary Hase, said with a laugh, “Can you train a dachshund?”
The breed is known for being stubborn. And Philip, who Hase dressed in a striped sweater that matches her own, is “kind of an asshole,” she said.
Whitney Laseter, owner of a local dog training company, was the receiver for 1-year-old Dennis, the first dachshund she’s owned. She waited at the finish line in a blue shirt that said “Dennis the Menace. Fastest Wiener in the West,” and waved her arms wildly to get his attention.
Dennis zig-zagged slightly, distracted by another racer, but found a way to win his heat. Dennis is fast and has long legs — long for a dachshund, anyway. Laseter knew he was fast, but wasn’t sure how he’d perform because of how easily distracted he is.
Dennis took home the first-place medal. The crowd cheered as Dennis and the three runners-up were placed on a podium.
When Wheeler is at a wiener dog race, he said he just feels joy. He doesn’t feel any animosity or see the political differences between people. Everyone is just there to celebrate stubby-legged dogs.
To him, it’s contagious.
“The world is in a crazy place, you know. I'm always about confronting what's going on in the world, but I also think that there's a time where we need to stop and relax and be gentle with ourselves and enjoy each other and just revel in life for a moment,” Wheeler said. “And there's just something about this wiener dog race that just produces so much endorphins.”
