Doggo

In fact those of you who have read about Ebby, Daphne and Annie for years on the pages of the York News-Times don’t even know a third of it.

Now, for the first time, I am prepared to reveal the profound scope of tube dog fascination, desperation and canine-coveting depravity that lies concealed at Good Wife Norma’s core.

You see the three above-named critters - each a half-dog tall and a dog-and-a-half long like all their predecessors - are just the tip of the iceberg Doxie-wise.

It all began long ago (1993) and far away (Lexington) when Max the Original Herd Bull became the first of what was to become an unbroken string of nine (count ‘em nine) wiener dogs.

Max, a ball-chasing fiend if ever one stalked the earth, is pictured above begging us to give one a lusty heave back in the day.

They weren’t all right out of a shelter, however for a variety of reasons every one was in critical need of a home when fate and the willingness to share our home converged.

Twice in these past 26 years - obviously including right now - we have shared our humble abode with three wieners at the same time.

This is how, through meticulous measuring, weighing and record keeping, I learned dachshunds defy both logic and mathematics; turns out three discharge at least twice as much effluent at the vent as only two produced before.

You’d think it would be one-third more, of course you would, but you’d be wrong. It’s at least double. Frequently more.

This is a breed characteristic all prospective wiener dog owners must acknowledge and consider ahead of time.

Between Max, whose swagger if not his anatomy was herd bull-like, and the current occupants of the Moseley hacienda came Prissy, Fritz, Derby, Duke and Princess.

Prissy was a non-traditional acquisition who came to us from Tiffany, our daughter and last-born of three Moseley offspring.

A professor at UNK gave her this chocolate wire-haired specimen but, alas, Tiff was in an upstairs college apartment at the time and wiener dogs were strictly verboten.

“Just keep her until I get out of school,” she pleaded, “and I will take her back right away.”

Bet you can guess how that worked out, huh? Prissy, perhaps the most vacuous and non-Mensa like mutt of the bunch, was with us to the sad day we had to put her down after moving here to York.

Our adventures and mid-adventures related to tube dogs are too numerous to accommodate in 100 columns of this length, but that’s not the point anyway.

I am beating my drum today to remind all of you the shelter at York Adopt a Pet is loaded with a constantly changing selection of dogs like our nine … each one desperate for a loving, caring, forever home.

Won’t you pop in one afternoon soon? Who knows, perhaps a dog (or two) will steal your heart and then return the favor. You don’t even have to go to the shelter if you don’t want to.

You can see and learn about all the dogs (and cats too, though cats don’t like me and I don’t like them back) by visiting YAAP’s outstanding website at yorkadoptapet.com.

By the way, if you are among the 80 percent of humans who find wieners more annoying than endearing, not to worry. They have tons of other shapes and sizes, too.


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