The Crazyweiler is not so huge as The Chairman’s blogs would have you believe. For example, it is untrue that he can look Paul Bunyan’s blue ox, Babe, straight-on in the eyes. It’s also false that, when Crazy yawns at night, bats fly out of his mouth.
Further, it is apocryphal that Crazy stands astride the Crow Wing River—as the colossus of French Lick Township. The source of that exaggeration can be traced to our late and deeply missed Cairn Terrier, Sandy. Several years ago, The Chairman would bring The Crazyweiler to the city and park him in our back yard. Sandy would stand between Crazy's front legs and leap for his throat with her fangs snapping shut about 6 inches short, every time. The story got out and—well—if a dog could stand up under The Crazyweiler, it’s not a major extrapolation to project, why not a sitting canoeist or snowmobiler on the river?
The Crazyweiler came up shorter than Sandy in one important way—brainpower. Sandy could understand spelled words … w.a.l.k., for example. She also recognized “perambulation” as a meaning ”walk.” She would be at the door, having heard… “do you …” without waiting for the rest of the sentence, “... want to go for a walk?” As for The Crazyweiler, he could have been named after Lenny, the tragic, dim giant in Steinbeck's “Of Mice and Men.” In a game of word association, tell me Crazyweiler and brain … and I’ll give you back “box of rocks,” every time.
Sandy was top dog with manners, too. Give her a treat, and she'd cary it into the next room for a nibble. The Crazyweiler would just open up; you'd throw in a dog biscuit (or a pipewrench) and wait to hear it splash.
So, there, I’m done hours ahead of my blog deadline, but that’s only because I have a free-lance assignment to delay completing.
Posted by Professor at August 6, 2003 06:39 PM