Happy Herman's Hideaway

Hello, my San Saba loves, and how have you been this past week? Boy did we ever have some loud thunder boomers, lightning and lots of rain. I wasn’t able to have a walk until yesterday because dad said I was such a lowrider my undercarriage would soak up the wet like a towel and I would be a mess! Trust me, I about went stir crazy. But I was a spoon without a pan so I had to stir by getting into lots of trouble around the house. Hey, it is what I do when I am a little bored which does not make a piece of lumber, no, I am still a dachshund.

I think mom is suffering from missing Galveston fever; we go through this every spring. For those who may not know, mom was born in Galveston. Yep, she is BOI or otherwise known as a Born on the Island. She is a surf and turf girl, but she despises seafood unless they are alive and swimming in the Gulf. I see the look in her eyes when dad is listening to his morning music and a picture of a beach comes on the screen; a wistful softness glows in them, a longing. I see her transported back to the days as a child on her dad’s shoulders being tossed into the waves, eating grilled hot dogs mixed with grains of sand with loving neighbors, hearing the laughter of her siblings and their arguments over who would get the inner tube or who would get to shower first when they got home. Yes, spring brings mom back to home to her soul.

I would like to file a complaint. Dad has been eating late night meals, clandestine meals of which and excluding me completing which of course clandestine means. Just before bedtime, he goes into the kitchen, sneaks into the freezer, gets something to put into the air fryer, cooks it, and then comes back to the couch and holds his plate way up high to eat it so I don’t even know what it is!! What is he playing at it??? It isn’t as if I am sitting waiting with my own fork waiting to pounce and devour what is on his plate! I have to wait until the parentals share with me. I do not have opposable thumbs, gee; I am a dachshund!

I want to tell you what a joy it is to write to you every week my, San Saba loves. I realize I am bit of a mess, a bit avant-garde, strange, and well, to be honest, a dachshund with a completely different view of the world. I so appreciate your willingness to not only accept my weekly musings but seem to love me. Thank you for being.