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I’ve written about this before in an older blog, and thought I’d revisit it here. This story goes back to my whimsical childhood and is a tale about how I was maybe a little more off the mark than some kids, or not. You be the judge. Anyways, most children plant various objects they would like to see grow on a tree. I’m assuming they mostly planted things that would be useful or from which they would derive the most pleasure – money, candy, certain toys, etc. Well, I planted hot dogs. Because I wanted a hot dog tree. And I did go back to the spot where I planted these cylindrical meat sticks in order to see whether my tree was growing or not (it wasn’t). If indeed it did grow, I think it would’ve looked a lot like this:

Okay, maybe not in the desert, and probably with more hot dogs and leaves, but you get the point.

Nowadays, I’m not as into hot dogs – guess it wasn’t one of those foods that stuck (other edibles that didn’t stick: Lucky Charms marshmallows, uncooked corn tortillas with peanut butter and sprinkles, uncooked oatmeal, Bonne Bell peppermint flavored chapstick, cream of coconut . . . ).

If I did still eat hot dogs as regularly as I’m assuming I did back then, I would definitely need this Barking Dog thing to cook them in.

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Actually, I probably need this just in case, you know, someone comes over and wants a hot dog or chili dog or something. Or in case I want one. Is it wrong to wish they had this in pig form, and it would oink when the hot dogs were ready? Or the sausage? Anyways, that’s my story. Feel free to comment with your weird childhood fascinations. ❤

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