Socks were one of the first forms of snackie currency here in tiny chumley’s little world. Back when stairs were something to be raced down, back when a certain little someone’s sausagey body was made of rubber and flubber, we walkied every day, if not even twice a day. And it always started with me, pulling out a pair of socks, and handing them to a very happy boy who would chomp them then race ahead of me, confident in knowing that not only were walkies forthcoming after i put them on, but that a snackie payment in full would be made in exchange for a slobbery wet pair of expertly delivered socks.
Over the years, for a multitude of reasons, our habits have changed. But one thing will always remain certain. No matter how he delivers them, no matter if we end up going for a walkie or just stay downstairs, successfully delivery of socks will always mean snackies for a certain happy little sausagey boy. And that, my friends, is everything :)
4 comments:
What a cute story about wolfie Baxter. 😊
You are so cute Baxter and not alone with the sock fetish, both my doxie boys love already worn socks! They will steal them off the floor and run down the hallway to the family room with their prizes. It's those quirky things you doxies do that keep us loving you so much.
During winter my little Klaus loves to lay in front of the heat register and curl up with my (already worn) socks. As he "toasts" each side of his cute little body, he will change the position of the socks. Each of us have such lovable and adorable little dachshunds....how lucky we are!
Krista
You rock, baxter! Funny we have never thought to parlay Dad's socks into TREATS!!! Must be that they smell too bad. Slurps, Harley, lulu Belle and Winnie.
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