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"Put me in, Coach!" squealed Luna. She was ready to race the moment we got there. I had to remind her that she is a Dorkie, not a full-blooded Doxie, so she was "over-qualified". |
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And the competition was fierce!
If you were a squeaky toy, that is.
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Athletic rubdowns and even some lick therapy was dispensed on the sidelines.
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Are you ready to rumble?
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Ladies and gentlemen, place your wienerdogs. . .
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And they're off with a thunder of pawbeats! It's Lucky Lindy coming up on the rail, leading
Who'sYerDaddy by a nose!
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Sure, she's in last place, but look at that form!
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Uh oh, one contestant never made it out of the starting gates on the final round.
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The pressure of defending his preliminary title was too much for him.
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His Mom didn't care what place he got, so long as he finished the race and into her arms.
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The important thing is that everybody got treats!
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Next up was the costume contest. Luna and I entered, but we were outmatched by some fun pooch apparel.
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These two were dressed as bottles of booze, whatever that is. Jameson Whiskey and Chivas (really "Cino") were their names.
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Hey, it's Oktoberfest, not Lobsterfest!
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And the grand prize for greatest humiliation, went to this gal, who was dressed as a dachmation.
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It was all for a great cause-- finding homes for doxies like this little guy.
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