Hello. It’s me!!
On a random trip into the closet, I found this sock in one of the bins, so I selected it as a preferred chewie, eschewing the lovely stick sitting right in front of my face.
You see, pre-laundered socks have just the right combination of male foot sweat and embedded particles to really tempt the taste buds.
And I honestly don’t understand why Dad would sneak up on me and demand that I relinquish my newly found hosiery.
Then this happens.
Dad you ?$&# stop taking my sock … stop it … MINE!
Ok, yours.
Dash the Dachshund 
Tough being the smaller one in sock-possession battle, isn’t it.
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Yo Dash,
Watzamatta, your wheels didn’t work?
After all, you were just doing what you were bred for. Ferreting out those odiferous Badgers that could also reek like your Dad’s socks.
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Yo Dash,
Tell the old man that you were only doing what you were bred for. Ferreting out those odferous Badgers that could reek just like his smelly socks.
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– My dog Shannon ( now in Doggie Heaven – sigh) used to play tug-o-war with a towel. He loved towels. My mom used to give him a new towel for his Birthday every year.
Maybe your dad will buy some new socks–wear them so they get smelly and then give them to you. Just a thought!! Hang in there–mom will be home soon. Auntie Janet
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Dash, I feel your rejection. My Mom and Dad are just as rigid. No socks OR shoes. Luckily I can catch a stray and run from them all around the house. (If only there was a doggy door.) Hang in there, they will forget and give you an opening for a quick “swoop and run”. Colette Rodewald
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