Roscoe was a three-year-old Dachshund who had a problem: his “Associate Human” (A.H.)–though in most other ways acceptable–had a thing for dressing poor Roscoe in ridiculous costumes and posting the result on her YouTube channel. Dachshunds are uncommonly dignified, and things like being forced into wearing a “Frankfurter” outfit for the sole purpose of the A.H. gaining likes and subscriptions hurt Roscoe’s pride.
The Christmas season was fast approaching and while the A.H. was at work, Roscoe came across a bag in the bedroom which contained felt antlers, a bell collar and a red rubber nose. This was when Roscoe decided to place a hit on the A.H.
Roscoe shopped the contract around to prospective hitters. As it goes with all animals, Roscoe could see and interact with human Spirits–who were the best entities to approach with the idea because being dead they couldn’t go to the cops. Roscoe had no idea how he’d “pay” for the hit, but he figured that the details would work themselves out.
“Dude,” said the Lightning Glory Spirit who had befriended Roscoe, “don’t you think that’s a bit extreme? Maybe we could just teach her a lesson. No charge for you but plenty for her.”
Roscoe recalled appearing as an eel at the start of fishing season; a long stemmed sunflower on the first of Spring; a firecracker with a “fuse” attached to his tale on Independence Day, the sailor outfit and his time as a little Dutch girl. “I prefer a pile of smoking ashes, but I’m willing to listen.”
Lightning Glory Spirits are able to absorb great amounts of static electricity and deliver it at a specific target. The voltage they pack really can’t injure a person, but it is an attention getter. For two days the Spirit entered every electronic device in the house and stored up plenty of juice.
The deed was a go, and while the A.H. was in the shower, Roscoe opened her phone with the aid of the Spirit who had gotten inside the device and had mastered the settings and gleaned the passwords. All the intrepid Dachshund needed to do was tap the screen with one toenail. Then he opened wide and carried the activated camera in his mouth.
The Lightning Glory didn’t unload on the A.H. all at once. He first nailed her while she was rinsing in the shower and gave her subsequent jolts as she sprinted naked around the apartment.
Later that day, footage shot from a very low perspective aired on the Roscoe Channel and went viral. YouTube revoked the A.H.’s privileges and shut her down.
Amoral: No one carries a low grudge longer than a Weenie Dog.
Hi Leila,
I knew someone who had two long haired Dachshunds and they were happy little chaps. Probably because they weren’t ever dressed up. Who would want a hairy hotdog??
You have highlighted the problem of many a person who should never have a dog. If you want to dress up a dog, make sure it is something big enough that can rip out your throat and drink your blood if it is upset!!
Excellent as always.
Hugh
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Ha! I remember when the Dalmation movie starring Glenn Close came out and everyone had to get one. The pounds were soon full of the guys because they are extremely high energy and not so fond of small children. I so dislike people who treat living creatures like accessories, and find them disposable. We had a weenie dog mix named Fang. I knew Fang from age seven till I was twenty-six and recall him fondly. A good fellow, and we never made him look stupid.
Leila
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Wow
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You got me at WHO wants a hairy hotdog. Omy. I know somebody who dresses her PIT Bull with a pink tutu. I didn’t even know what to say. What do you say?
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Thank you–KC, your comment is appreciate!
Leila
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Actually it is *appreciated.
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Whenever I see a Feeble Fable has been posted, I know I’m in for a entertaining read, and this one doesn’t disappoint. I think Dachshunds, like all dogs, are often morally superior to humans so it didn’t surprise me that Roscoe didn’t insist upon a smoking pile of ashes.
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Thank you, David–
As I have stated on multiple occasions if a weenie dog doesn’t like you, protect your achilles.
Leila
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Down with hound exploitation! A surrogate fashion model for likes on You Tube, indeed, is nothing shocking anymore? Yes, it is. Justice served, with a jolt. Is there any chance at rehab. for AH? Or for any of us addicted to social media?
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Thank you Harrison–
Social media has formed a “plantation society” based on animal exploitation. Lots of charmless bozos making money off cute creatures. I’m sure that the dogs and cats and ferrets and what have you are well looked after. But I’d rather the money be in ta dog’s bank account and the human can be a recipient of a new squeak toy, or the ritzy kibble.
Leila
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Crufts Dog Show was on the TV the other week. A poodle, that had been clipped like a topiary hedge, showed what s/he thought of the proceedings by having a piss in the middle of the auditorium.
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Michael–
Poodles are remarkably smart. The one described shows an intellectual capacity even higher than the norm.
Leila
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They say there’s nothing new under the dachshund. Probably too low for anything to fit. Was it under the sun? Maybe I got that wrong. We know better than to have tried to dress up Kitzhaber the cat.
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Thank you, Doug.
The noble Dachshund was best treated in the Far Side. No one can draw a better weenie dog that Mr. Larson. I have seen the cartoon of a Dachshund seeing a monster sneak into the house and decide that discretion is the better part of valor probably fifty times and it always makes me smile.
You were wise not to dress up the Governor. It is difficult to type without fingers
Leila
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Thank you. Right about Larson. I’ve read the Farside pre-history which explains a lot. I see you get Kitzhaber. I never liked the person. We went to a talk he did when running against Chris Dudley at a friend of ours house (late Lou Beck one of the instigators of Tryon Park where I spend many hours a week in volunteer drudgery). He stood on a stump and said something like “Now I can feel like Dudley (ex Trailblazer center – couldn’t shoot, but could rebound)”. I probably voted for neither. Current politicians are going diametrically to Tom Lawson McCall and attempting to remove the last joy from a glimmer of paradise. My editor, if she knew, would be so glad that I’m writing this and doesn’t have to hear for the 500th time.
Keep on rocking with your bad self.
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