Today, I discovered that I may have a career in racing ahead of me.
It make sense when you think about it. My mother, Schatze, has always been a fast runner. Not just kind of fast, but speedy-quick, zippier than lightning fast! For the past two weeks, she and Jack, one of our owners, have been in the backyard every day practicing for the upcoming Weiner Dog Races. Jack would stand at one end of the yard holding up Momma’s favorite bone chew toy, while Olivia (my favorite seven year old in the world!) held Momma in position on the opposite end of the yard.
At Jack’s signal, Olivia would release Momma and shout, “Go Schatze!”
Momma lowered her head and bounded down the yard to Jack faster than a freight train. She jumped up to capture her rubber bone in her mouth and then ran excited circles around Jack.
I’m telling you! Momma is amazing!
Personally, I, Oliver the great and mighty dachshund, don’t like to race. Oh, running is fine and all, but I don’t believe you should run unless you have a powerful motivation—like a cat or an unattended plate of spaghetti. Maybe if they held either of those things at the finish line, I’d be all about racing, too! Not to mention that I’m around six months old and already in excellent svelte shape. I don’t really need to watch my figure.
I’m just hoping that Jack and Olivia will take me with them to the Wiener Dog Races so that I can see my mother in action.
*****
“Momma, can we enter Oliver in the costume contest?” Olivia’s sweet voice holds a note of excitement that gets my tail wagging even as I wonder what a costume is. “I think he would make a great hot dog!”
“Well, honey, I don’t know. Oliver tends to be a little mischief maker and I’m not sure we want to deal with that on race day. Besides, I don’t know if he’ll even wear a costume. My guess is that he’ll just chew it up.” Trudy frowned down at me. “Just like he chewed up my new slippers.”
My tail stopped wagging. How does she always know it’s me?
“Oliver would look so cute though. Please. Please!”
“Uh-oh. What’s she begging for now?” Jack asked coming into the living room. “Did she get tired of that new Wii game we bought her already?”
“No!” Olivia giggled. “I just want to enter Oliver in the costume contest at the Weiner Dog Races.”
“Costume contest?” He gave me an appraising look which caused me to wag my tail at him. “He is pretty cute.”
“Jack, that dog finds more ways to get into trouble. I don’t know if taking him to the races is a smart idea,” Trudy said. “Besides the races are supposed to be a special treat for Schatze.”
“Schatze won’t care if we bring Oliver along. I think she runs faster when she knows he’s watching. It’s almost like she’s teaching him how to do it.” Jack put his arm around Trudy. “Weren’t you just saying that Oliver needs help with doggie social skills? I know you’ve taken him to the dog park a few times, but just think of how good it will be for him to see lots of other dachshunds and how they act.”
“Ha! You’re forgetting that lots of dachshunds are just as smart and mischievous as our little Oliver is.” Trudy shrugged in defeat. “Fine. We’ll bring him, but don’t blame me if things get out of hand.”
“Yay!” Olivia clapped her hands. “C’mon Oliver! Let’s go try on your costume!”
She took off for her bedroom and I darted after her. She began rummaging through a big box in her closet, tossing out random, sparkly outfits. A few of them looked good enough to chew on, and I’d just sunk my teeth into a glittery princess dress when Olivia squealed so loud that I thought the walls would fall down.
“Here it is! I knew I’d stuffed it away with my own dress up clothes.” Olivia held up a weird looking contraption that had some strange foamy stuff on it. “This used to be Schatze’s costume and now it will be yours.”
Apparently, a costume is something you wear. Looking at the sheer absurdity of what Olivia was holding up, I suddenly had a bad feeling about this whole costume thing. A few seconds later, the feeling grew deeper as Olivia fussed with the outfit and shoved my head through it. The next thing I knew I was encased in a dachshund sized hot dog bun.
I looked at myself in the mirror, astonished. I mean, there I was in a hot dog bun and my body was obviously supposed to be the wiener. The foam buns had ketchup and mustard painted on to them, and for a moment, I thought I actually looked good enough to eat.
Then reality hit me. I was going to have to wear this in front of other dogs. Not good. So not cool.
“Momma! Come look at Oliver,” Olivia called.
Trudy started laughing as soon as she saw me. I sighed,totally humiliated. When she composed herself, she called out, “Jack, you’ve got to come take a look at this.”
Jack came in the room. He tilted his head to the side, and I gave him my saddest eyes, trying to convey my thoughts.
Please Jack. Please don’t let them dress me up in this thing!
“Um…I don’t know, ladies. He doesn’t look too happy.” Jack squatted down and patted my head. “This isn’t what I would call the manliest of costumes. I think Oliver needs something that suits his personality a little better. He’s not as prissy as Schatze is.”
They all three looked at me as if trying to picture the perfect outfit. I wagged my tail, anxious to know what the end result would be.
Jack snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! I saw the perfect costume at the pet store the other day.”
“What is it?”
“A costume that will completely suit Oliver and set off his personality perfectly.”
And that’s how I ended up on the day of the race wearing a red devil’s costume complete with horns.
*****
All around us dogs were yapping in excitement. The day of the Weiner Dog Race had finally arrived. Momma had done great and we were taking a little break, chatting with other pet owners.
“These dogs are so cute,” the old lady with the ice cream cone said. The ice cream was melting, and some of it dripped down her hand before it hit the ground. If Trudy hadn’t had such a tight hold on my leash, I would have leapt forward and lapped it up. “How old is that one?”
“He’s six months. His mother is around five. We adopted her from an animal shelter,” Trudy said. “What about yours? How old is he?”
“Bubba is ten and cranky as cranky can be.” The woman smiled down at the dog across from me.
Bubba looked cranky. He also looked fat. Really fat. The kind of fat that would probably be really uncomfortable. Like me, Bubba was a dachshund, but unlike me, his belly practically drug on the ground when he walked. Poor guy.
“How’s it going, pal?” I asked. He stared at my costume and shook his head.
“A red devil, huh? I like your horns. They’re tough. Your owners must have a sense of humor,” Bubba said. He gestured to his own outfit. “My owner doesn’t have any taste.”
Poor Bubba. His body was covered by a green sweater and around his neck stretched happy sunflower petals. Somehow the look didn’t appear to match his disposition. Bubba just didn’t come off as a sunflower kind of guy.
“Wow. I like your outfit, too,” I said, but I could tell Bubba knew I didn’t mean it. “It’s very…happy.”
“You plannin’ to do any racing?”
“No. Running isn’t my thing. I was in the costume parade though.”
“Really? I thought you just liked to wear that silly get up for fun,” Bubba said, sarcastically.
“What about you? You going to do any racing?” I already knew the answer and couldn’t stop the little laugh that came out. If Bubba could move that tub of lard belly off of the ground, I’d be shocked!
“What? Are you sayin’ I can’t run? That I can’t compete? That I can’t hold my own?” Bubba growled softly at me. “I could beat a little pip squeak like you any day.”
“Yeah, right.” The devil costume was making me feel bold, like nothing could stand in my way. Plus, there was no way this guy could beat me at anything.
A few yards away, a toddler dropped a whole hotdog on the ground.
Bubba and I both saw it happen, and the smell of the meat, tinged with the sour scent of mustard wafted to us. It seemed a shame to let that go to waste…
I looked at Bubba and could tell he was having the same thought. No. No way was that dog getting my hot dog. I saw it first. It was mine!
“You ready for that race, kid?” Bubba asked. He lowered his head and slanted his eyes in concentration. “I bet I can get it before you.”
Yeah, right! I nodded and took a deep breath. Trudy was holding the leash loosely, deep in concentration with Bubba’s owner about the importance of adopting dogs. It wouldn’t take much to break free from her grip. Jack, Olivia, and Momma were several feet away, looking at a booth with dachshund figurines. This was my chance.
I yanked on the leash with all my might and managed to pull free of Trudy. Bubba did the same thing, and in the blink of an eye, we were off. To my surprise, we were neck and neck the whole time. Just as I was about to grab the hotdog and claim my victory, Bubba barreled into me, knocking me off balance. My body flew the wrong direction and I found myself watching Bubba chomp down my hot dog.
“Bubba! Bad dog!” the old lady swooped in on us. “You are supposed to be on a diet.”
Bubba just kept on chewing, his eyes glittering with triumph.
“Wow! Did you see that?” Olivia picked up my leash. “Daddy, Oliver is a fast runner.”
“Maybe we should race him next time. I always feel like we’re punishing our dogs when we put them in a costume anyway,” Jack said. “I guess we know what will motivate Oliver to come the finish line.”
My ears pricked up. Hmmm…a hot dog would probably do the trick alright.
I hoped training would start right away!
****
(…to be continued)
Related posts:
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Protects His Family
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Digs
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Gets Fleas
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Goes Camping
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Enjoys a Midnight Snack. Or Two.
