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The Golden Boy

Updated on February 23, 2010

Basset hounds are rather low maintenance. No pun intended because of their height. They don't shed much and like to be brushed. Clean their big floppy ears and watch the undercarriage for rashes and allergies since they have about one inch clearance at the lowest point and they are happy campers. Like me though, Wacker loves to get his hair washed and trimmed and be pampered over. We have a standing appointment for every two months to get his teeth cleaned and his nails polished with a shampoo. He always leaves there with a colorful scarf tied around his neck which has to stay on at least a week. When we returned home he couldn't wait to take me for a walk. He already had on his favorite red harness and was ready to go. Out the door we went. As we descended down the front steps, Ellie his girl friend caught sent of him and barked a little French bark. He bayed back and we were off. As we neared the fence of her yard he began to prance like the dogs on the Westminster Dog Show do as they round the circuit. Ellie came to the gate and stood there admiring him. He turned and showed her his tail end and proceeded to model all sides. Going up to the gate he looked at me and at my pocket. I knew the routine and gave him a peanut butter treat. He presented it to her and she fluttered her eyes like the best French actresses do and smiled. When she took it from him it was as if it were make of glass. She laid it on the sidewalk and nibbled at the edge like a lady. He bowed before like an English gentleman and smiled back. As a teenager at his age I often found it difficult to talk to girls. What do you say? You can't talk about sports or cars or almost anything. Wacker on the other hand seemed to pass over this. It may be because he watches the news with me or it may just be his personality. He was smooth. Now I am no dog whisperer expert nor am I blessed with canine language skills, but I believe they were talking about the boxer twins. They both giggled and looked up the street at them. Both of the boxers were busy marking the territory in the yard like someone would go in there. Ellie's human called for her to come in and said hi to me. She walked up that sidewalk as if it were a fashion runway. Wacker turned his head up and took in her odor and we walked off as he kissed the fence where her nose last touched. The boxers were at the fence ready to attack the fence when Wacker turned ninety degrees at them and let out a thundering bark. Both dogs reeled back so fast they rolled over and ran to the porch. Back home Wacker sat on his cube while we watched Katie tell the news. A commercial came on and in it two dogs were in a car. One was driving. Wacker turned to me as if to say " How bout it Dad? Can I? Can I? I just want to take Ellie to Edwards Drive Inn for a tenderloin and onion rings. Please? Please? " Well I put my foot down. I said " Young man you are not taking my Lincoln. Mom may let you use her Toyota. After all if you wreck it we can always blame it on a sticky gas pedal."


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