Nicknames: Bun-Bun, Sir Bunaparte
Breed: Long-haired Dachshund
Hair Color: Red
Height: 8 inches
Weight: 17 pounds
Length: Very long
Birthdate: March 17, 2004 — a German dog born on an Irish holiday?
Current Home: New Jersey
Favorite Food: Cheese; Ice Cream
Hobbies: Blogging, rolling my yellow soccer ball, fetching my little red ball, sleeping, barking, and chasing my cat brother, Salem. Dieting.
Family Members: My 16-year-old sister who is a student and a poet, my cat brother, Salem aka Rico Suave, and my Mom who is an author and a licensed psychologist. There is also my Nana, who lives away from us in an ungated idyllic town in Pennsylvania (pop. 216), close to a great lake that isn't Erie, Huron, Superior, Michigan, or Ontario.
Penpals: Sis, Mary Lou, Herb
Favorite poet: My sister, Mirabella, and Ted Kooser
Favorite artist: Warhol — The Dachshund
Passions: I love Kleenex. In fact, they are something I think about all the time.
I first met my mother and sister in the pet store almost four years ago. Alan, the animal tech, took me out of the cage and put me in a play area to interact with these two.
First thing I did was climb into my future mother's purse. My soon to be sister said, "Aw, look Mom, he must be so exhausted, he's in your purse." Silly, silly females that they were – I wasn't tired. I was going after the Kleenex that were sticking out of the open bag.
What a treasure trove that was — white, fluffy, sweet smelling tissues, hundreds of them (well, that might be a little bit of an exaggeration). Oh boy, I thought to myself, old Buttons has hit the mother lode this time.
Sadly, they pulled me out of the purse, plunked me into a hard plastic cage, and we set off for my new home. I cried some on the way, but that was my grief reaction at being separated from my first love.
It took the two of them a long time to discover how much I adore Kleenex. If my mother leaves her purse on the floor, anything in it is fair game. But I am interested in only one thing, and you already know what it is, so I am not going to repeat myself.
Last night, there was a bit a problem with my penchant. My mother came in the house in a rush, flung her purse down, fool that she was, and I, of course, decided to have a bedtime snack. Unfortunately for me, a piece of the beloved Kleenex somehow became wrapped around one of my back teeth. I couldn't paw it out. I was making all kinds of strange gestures with my mouth, but in a subtle, doggy kind of way. Once my family discovered what I had been up to, I knew I was going to get scolded.
Well, let me tell you, those two were all over me like a cheap suit, once they found I was actually, in a way, ailing. My sister grabbed me and put me in a Hulk Hogan choke hold. She pried open my mouth, stuck her finger halfway down my throat, and began a hot quest to discover why I was whining.
She said to my mom, "Hah! I can see it, this boy has been eating you know what and it's stuck in the back of his mouth." Then I did a half-Nelson, broke free, and began running. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough and she caught me again.
Now I, being a canine of some importance, relented, and allowed her to remove the errant piece of tissue. I hope she doesn't choose dentistry as a career, because that girl is rough and tough and maybe even full of fleas. Ha ha, I just said that to get back at her for being so disparaging about my hobby.
Be aware that if you are going to be a K snatcher you have to be slick and quick.
Please respond if you are short, hairy, agile, and have a love for the softer, finer things in a box or someone's bag. Photos of both canine and Kleenex together are appreciated. Will respond in kind.
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