Oh, dear little weenie dog,
how happy you make me!
Your short stubby legs -
waddling is your hallmark.
Droopy ears and your happy bark.
Weenie dog, you make me smile
with your joyful swinging tail.
But when you're called to dinner,
to get there takes such a long while.
Yes, I know, I'm a little weird... the weenie dog has just been all over my morning...
I was still a little worn out from San Francisco Tuesday (photos and blog entry coming soon!) that I bonked a little after ten last night and overslept this morning. Now, I know this part might seem unbelievable, but my children arguing over cavemen and weenie dogs was my wake-up call this morning. Cavemen? Weenie dogs? I thought the same thing you are right now... my kids are weird, too! No, no, no... "What in the world are they talking about???" It was such an intriguing combination that I hauled my butt out of the bed as fast as my old lady bones would allow me, put on my flip-flops... and then realized I really wasn't ready to get up! It was a wee bit chilly this morning! (I LOVE IT!!!) So I swung my feet back onto my heavenly tempurpedic mattress, kicked off the flips and pulled my blankies back up. But they were still discussing cavemen and weenie dogs and those were the only part of the conversation I could hear from my comfy sanctuary.
Hmmm... "No-o-o-a-a-h..." Thank you, Lord, he was in a good mood! He sauntered back to my bedroom draped under a fleecy blanket. "Hey, buddy, you're not dressed! Where are your clothes? Are you going to school in your jammies today?" he scowled at me. Maybe his mood wasn't that hot! Instead of being crabby, though I pulled him up onto the bed and squeezed him as tight as I was able. "Hey, why is Caroline throwing weenie dogs at the caveman?" I love his laugh, and he graced me with a healthy dose of it.
"Mo-o-o-m!!! No-one is throwing weenie dogs at the caveman!" Giggle, giggle, giggle, "Caroline thought the caveman was throwing rocks at the weenie dog!" I get a kick out of it when the silly things I say exasperate him, "Oh, like when I hit the poor little dog with the bean bag at Uncle Sean's?" He laughed again. "No! The cavemen were throwing rocks at each other!!!" At that moment I realized what the reference was: at the recycle center in Berkeley they had children's books for a quarter apiece. I WANTED just about everyone of them, but I chose 4 or 5 for him and his little sister. Well, one of them was a Gary Larson collection of *The Far Side* comics titled, *Wiener Dog Art.* They were referencing a comic from this book and Caroline thought that because of the title all of the comics had a story about weenie dogs. She thought cavemen were throwing rocks at the wieners; I thought, half asleep, the cavemen were throwing weenie dogs at each other. Wiener Dog Escapade #1.
Once I got up I put the radio on and the morning DJs were talking about how it's already October... many places are having Oktoberfest celebrations this month... they listed a few of those places... then they announced that in some midwest city they had the traditional Oktoberfest parades and celebrations, but they also had the annual weenie dog races. Who makes poor little weenie dogs race?! THEN, a lady called in and told about her furry daschund who chased gophers all over her yard and loved it. Okay... She said he looked like a little furry cloud flying over the yard with his ears flapping like wings. She said it better... I guess you just had to be there... I was ROTFLMBO! I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard! So, there, Wiener Dog Escapade #2.
Then, on my newest addiction, Flickr, I was scanning and commenting on my contacts' newest uploads and the one that has oodles of vintage pattern images had a new pattern that looked like it was from the fifties... It was for a little girl coat. Well one of the little girlies had a daschund on a leash. Even though it's just an illustration, the poor little guy looks miserable! Wiener Dog Escapade #3.
Many years ago my grandmother had one stout, tubby, F-A-T weenie dog named, Chrissy. Chrissy was a stubborn, sneaky little dog. And did I say she was fat? She truly looked like a giant frankfurter with little dog legs sticking out her sides and a tail that quite possibly connected her to the chain of fat wiener dog sausages. The best, though, was that Chrissy seemed to adore my sister, Cindy. One of the things Cindy would do was to put Chrissy in one of the swiveling, rocking chairs in gramma's living room. Then she would stand Chrissy up on her back legs against the back of the chair. The little pooch's tail would be going in hyper-speed by this point. If Cindy thought my gramma couldn't hear her she'd then start "singing" to Chrissy until she howled. It wouldn't surprise me if, when she thought no-one was around, Cindy gave Chrissy a few good spins in that chair. Chrissy adored Cindy. There's Wiener Dog Escapade #4.
Maybe we should get the kids a daschund. But they're just so darn stubborn! The kids, not the dog... And then I would be the one left to walk, feed and clean up after - the dog, not the kids! Who knows...
So, hereafter, October 1st is officially "The Day of the Weenie Dog." Maybe I'll have hotdogs for lunch; corndogs for dinner anyone? And, of course, a new Weenie dog poem every year. I warned you I'm weird...
MERRY DAY OF THE WEENIE DOG!!!
In His love,
tHE cRAFTY mAMA