In Honor of National Bar-B-Que Month, here is a smalln offering for anyone who has had the misfortune of losing a hotdog to a roving rover on four legs. Hotdogs right off the grill are just so tempting to man or beast.
What Happened To My Hotdog?
By Bill Kirk
(Published in Wee Ones magazine in July/August 2005)
What happened to my hotdog?
Dad cooked it just for me.
And while it popped and sizzled,
I waited patiently.
When it was done, I fixed it,
So it would taste just right.
I set it on the table,
But now it’s out of sight.
I’m looking for my hotdog,
All plump inside its bun.
With ketchup and some mustard,
It glistened in the sun.
So, where’s my missing hotdog?
It’s nowhere to be found.
Is that a splat of ketchup,
I see there on the ground?
Now, something looks suspicious--
I think I see a trail.
Oh no! There goes my doggie.
He’s wagging his short tail.
“Hey, doggie, is that ketchup
And mustard on your nose?
I wonder how it got there--
By hotdog, you suppose?”
What happened to my hotdog?
I guess we know by now.
My doggie found my hotdog.
And made it doggie chow.
