|DACHSHUNDS ON GOLF COURSE|
By R.J. SmileyOnce upon a time on a beautiful spring day, Crusoe and his little brother Oakley decided to spend the afternoon playing a round of golf. The fact that these adorable brothers were less than a foot tall made no difference. They had a set of custom-made golf clubs, built to their exact specifications. They were intent on challenging the course record (from the red tees, of course). They went to the pro shop where the golf professional agreed to let them play, but refused to allow them to drive the golf cart. He said that their legs were not long enough to reach the pedals. Crusoe attempted to explain that he would control the steering wheel while his younger brother, Oakley, would control the pedals. The golf pro, who did not see the humor in this statement, refused and forced these brothers to carry their clubs and walk. The pro did agree to allow them to pay a 9-hole green fee. Expensive? Yes, the cost of golf would purchase a whole case of dog food. No matter, our short-legged brothers were determined to enjoy the day at the links.
These brothers had little experience playing the golf, but golf ran through their veins. Their distant cousin, the low slung Welch Corgi, accompanied the Scottish shepherds who first played golf on the seaside links in Scotland.
The brothers were so excited that they ran all the way to the first tee. They flipped a tee and Crusoe was first on the tee. At first he had trouble keeping his ball on the tee. Every time he looked down the fairway to line up his shot he knocked the ball off the tee. Finally Crusoe smacked it down the middle. After a variety of good shots and a few miscues, the brothers eventually made it to the first green. Crusoe barked to Oakley, "This is a stupid game, golf is much harder than it looks on television."
Oakley shanked his approach shot on the first hole. It bounced off a fire hydrant into the sand bunker. As Oakley cautiously entered the bunker he was trying to figure a way to get himself, with his short legs, out of the bunker, let alone his ball. When Crusoe was not looking Oakley attempted to bury his ball in the sand and declare the ball lost. Oakley thought it was worth a two-shot penalty just to be out of the cat litter box. Crusoe caught Oakley attempting to bury his ball. After a lesson on golf rules, Crusoe allowed his little brother to place his ball on a mound of sand. The tall sand tee would create enough elevation for Oakley's ball to escape the bunker.
Finally Oakley's ball found the putting surface. It was beautifully manicured but getting the ball into the hole was really, really difficult, even with a custom made putter. Finally the frustrated Oakley just picked up his ball and dropped it into the hole. Then he used his teeth to retrieve the ball from the cup.
On the very next hole Crusoe found the rough. "Wow, what thick rough this is," yapped Crusoe. "It is so tall that it tickles my belly when I walk. I might never find the fairway again."
Our short-legged brothers finally completed their 9-hole round and returned to the comfort of their sheepskin beds on the living room floor.
Oakley, exhausted from so many swings fell immediately asleep and dreamed of hitting perfect shots down the middle and staying out of the kitty box. Crusoe, the more mature brother took a more practical approach. He was looking in the yellow pages for golf lessons.
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