Falling Hot Dog Spills The Beans

This is Patrick. A dachshund. He is owned by a friend of mine, Bill, and was thus named because he was born on St. Patrick's Day. I have another friend born on a holiday, St. Valentine's Day, in fact, but we don't have any pet names for him. That would be weird. Anyway, the other night I watched as Patrick jumped up on a day-bed in Bill's entertainment room, presumably to take a nap. Dogs do that a lot. Patrick does it almost non-stop. He gets up, I'm convinced, for one of only three reasons. Eat. Poop. Go outside to bark at people jogging down the road. That's it, really. But I digress. Back to the day-bed. Patrick had commenced his napping, which of course always begins with some strange ritualistic throwing of blanket up in the air over and over again while simultaneously jumping up and down, and somehow ending up wrapped up like a baby in swaddling clothes. I'm not saying he's god-like, just strange. And talented. On this particular day Patrick awakened after a short time, but was apparently disoriented. He started to back up off the other side of the day-bed, the side with Bill's strange apparatus that is part cabinet, part catch-all, part holder of white beans. This last thing is true, though odd. Indeed there are drawers with see-through glass fronts. The glass is easily unsettled if you're not careful. Inside each of these drawers is a large amount of white beans. Don't ask, I don't know why. Patrick slid off the back side of the day-bed, the wrong side I might add, hit one of the doors with his flailing body, unsettled the glass and when he landed, wedged between the bed and cabinet, a steady stream of white beans began pouring out, ever so evenly, on his head. The dog couldn't move, so I rescued him. But before I did I laughed out loud at the look of utter-bewilderment on his face...and conceived of this strangely-titled, more oddly written, more puzzlingly still published, post. The falling hot dog spilled the beans.