The Dachshund Pocketbook Incident

I mentioned this here before, but thought you may enjoy reading the full story.  

When I was 5 years-old I got a black and tan Dachshund (a.k.a. Weiner Dog for my visual readers... visual readers, wait, is that an oxymoron.  What? Huh?  Where am I?  Er.... Anyways) that spent most of her time growling at people and running away from me.   I swore that I was gonna love her, and hug her, and call her George Biscuit.   And I did.  

Biscuit, despite her persnickety personality and desire to run, was a really good dog.   And you may not know this if you have never personally owned a Dachshund, but when you do people have a tendency to give you Dachshund themed gifts.   I got stuffed Dachshunds, Dachshund brooches (what child doesn't love a gold plated brooch of her favorite dog?),  shirts with Dachshunds on them, books about Dachshunds, even little figurine Dachshunds.   I could have easily opened a gift shop from my bedroom.

Out of all my mementos honoring my favorite pooch was actually one I chose myself.   While at the beach the summer before starting high school I found the perfect accessory that just screamed to me to be the perfect mix of "sophisticated 9th grader" meets "fun, funky, and carefree".  

That accessory was a Dachshund shaped pocketbook. 

I could hear the acclimates now.

How cool, LeeAnn!

That thing is the bomb!  It's a dog!  It's a purse!  It's a dog-purse!

LeeAnn, you are so awesome.   Let's hang out with our stuffed animal handbags. 

Oh yeah!  That baby was going to be my icebreaker into the world of high school.  

I can still remember my first day of high school it like it was yesterday.   I got up and excitedly got my stuff ready.   The outfit was an ankle lenght skirt that was blue tie-dyed with a matching tie-dyed short-sleeved button-up blouse (get all that?).  To really send it over the top, it was all made of a nylon type material.   To round out the outfit, I had on one of my first pair of cork, wedge heeled shoes.  

My hair was pulled back into a (very) tight ponytail and hair sprayed down to ensure not a hair was sticking up.   I hadn't really gotten into make-up much yet, but I think I remember something about a red lipstick.  

I grabbed my new pocketbook and gave myself one last look in our hallway bathroom.  I knew I was ready to meet my destiny. 

I go to first period.  Things go well.  I'm rockn' cork wedges and the purse.   I whip my hair back and forth.  I'm ready for second period.

Now, for those who are not familiar with Gibbs High School, I probably need to set this up a bit.   Between my first class which was nursing downstairs underneath the Home Ec rooms and my second period class which was in the science hall there are two long hallways.   Connecting those two long hallways is connector hallway where it was traditional for the senior boys to gather between classes.   And that connector hallway has a ramp.   A ramp with a handle.  

And that ramp with the handle is where I met that destiny I envisioned just hours earlier.   I don't know if it was my anxiety of getting to my class on time, or my natural grace, or the cork heels, or perhaps it was the trifecta that caused the following to happen.  

But, right as I began up the ramp, my Dachshund Pocketbook got caught on the handrail resulting in me hurling through the air landing with me in a heap on the ground.   Miraculously, I believe that all 850 students who attended Gibbs High School were standing in that small connector hallway during that very moment.   I think I remember someone whispering "Is that a Basset hound purse?"

The rest of the day was a blur, but I do remember going home and putting my pocketbook with my Dachshund brooch to never been seen again.  

Thank you and Amen.