Crusoe, the Worldly Wiener Dog Read online

  Crusoe, the Worldly Wiener Dog

  “Yeah, life is ruff.”

  “I think I actually pack pretty light. . . .”

  CRUSOE

  The Worldly Wiener Dog

  Further Adventures with the Celebrity Dachshund

  Ryan Beauchesne

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  This book is dedicated to, well, me.

  Because my awesomeness is inconceivable, and because I’m probably the only wiener that actually looks good in a Speedo.

  Introduction

  Well, well, hello again.

  It’s me, Crusoe—can we say, official?—celebrity dachshund. I began my career as “the wiener dog who thinks he’s more of a celebrity than he really is,” and today most would agree I’ve finally reached the luminary levels my imagination once aspired to. Yet, it

  seems as soon as I stand upon the summit of my achievements, a new peak appears with even taller ambitions of grandeur and break-the-internet heights of fame.

  At the time of my last book 21 dog years ago, I was merely a wanting little pup who had only just dipped his paws in the puddle of fame, who had only a single cabinet of outfits, and who had only a couple of odd stamps in his passport. Compare that to now, and I am soaking in the tub of superstardom, sipping on the most expensive bottled toilet water Mum and Dad can afford, and where I once only had a chair to ponder the mysteries of the universe, I now have a whole room, complete with walk-in wardrobe, framed fan art and magazine covers on my wall, and a corner of the carpet to pee on.

  Plus, the laundry room is right next to mine so anytime I want a stinky sock to chew on, I just take one.

  Furthermore, I’ve become a frequent flyer, traveling across North America on tour, sampling cheese from Paris, exploring my heritage in Germany, hiking up ancient temples in Mexico, and so much more. I’ve graced countless TV interviews with my presence; I have over a frickin’ billion video views to my name; I’m supposedly a bestselling author; and I can no longer safely geotag my location on an Instagram picture because PEOPLE WILL SHOW UP!

  This is where I would queue a tacky rap song with such lyrical anecdotes as, “we made it,” “look where I am,” “started from the bottom now we’re here,” “who-who-who let the dogs out?!” “mambo number 5!”—sorry, got carried away at the end there—I do love a good beat!

  Life hasn’t been all stinky socks and toilet water, though. About a year after my first book came out, I had emergency surgery on my spine. You can imagine what a hit that was to my unshakeable ego. As if that wasn’t enough, during my recovery I also lost someone close to me.

  I have titled this book, “the worldly wiener dog,” obviously because of my travels, but in a deeper sense as well. My travels, adventures, and hardships have enlightened me to a different way of seeing things. Money and fame may be the shiniest stones in the mountain stream, but health and happiness are the most precious.

  I ended my last book with the words, keep ballin’, which is now how I begin this one.

  Crusoe

  “When do they start the snack service?”

  New York City, New York, USA

  New York was the first real “big city” I had ever been to, and it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I’ll admit, I wasn’t a huge fan at first—in fact, I really didn’t like it, but New York is one city that seems to keep calling me back, and every new visit I make reveals a little more of its impressively unique character.

  New York can easily overwhelm you with all the people, smells, and loud noises. It’s a world where, for once, I feel “small.” No one seems to notice the little hot dog darting between the feet of the crowd trying not to get stepped on.

  Yet, as soon as someone yells “hot dogs for sale!” THEN OH—everybody notices!

  Isn’t this city supposed to be called the Big Apple? Where are all the heckin’ fruit stands?

  The most challenging part of New York is all the concrete. Being a country dog at heart, I still to this day cannot pee on concrete, and it was only very recently that I said **** it and began taking dumps on sidewalks. That took a lot of willpower, let me tell you, but once you’re able to just pop-a-squat mid-stroll on your way to the park, it changes you. All the previous insecurities you had in life just go out the window (down the toilet?).

  Mum and Dad took me onto the subway for my first time, where dogs are allowed if kept in a bag. I was a little skeptical as you can tell.

  I would have preferred a private limo or something, but as Mum so blatantly told me after I said I didn’t want to ride with the common folk, “Crusoe, we are common folk!”

  I disagreed, but I felt it would be awkward to cause a scene in front of all the people I would be complaining about.

  I figured the best way to get over it would be to strike up a conversation with a fellow passenger, you know, to engage with my fellow peoples; to get on their level. Plus, if I ever decide to pursue a career in politics, I’ll be able to better appeal to the middle class by promoting the fact I once rode the subway.

  “Excuse me, fellow rider of the underground public transportation system. Beautiful tunnel today, isn’t it? Sorry to disturb your nap, but I couldn’t help wonder what that wonderful aroma is coming from your paper bag?”

  The guy looked at me straight and said, “It’s a hot dog,” and then gave me a creepy wink. My eyes widened in terrified shock! I quickly said “Oh” and turned away.

  I knew I was right to be skeptical of the subway, and I knew these people were not to be trusted!

  I made sure to watch him out of the corner of my eye for the rest of the ride. I had to admit though, I was shocked to look at my watch and see how quickly we’d arrived at our destination.

  My accommodation was much more in line with my perceived stature; the corner room of the tallest hotel in all of North America, with a perfect view out over the entire Central Park? The things you get to enjoy for free when you’re a celebrity . . .

  “You spoil us, Crusoe . . .” Mum said while admiring the view.

  I’ve even come to learn that it’s not all just concrete here. A little squirrel-watching from a Central Park bench is a lovely way to spend a couple of hours.

  Even strutting down Wall Street, dressed in my best suit and briefcase, no one noticed me. Although, perhaps as a wiener in a suit I blended in more than I knew?

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit resentful of how much harder it is to be noticed in this city. Then again, as Dad says, it’s a healthy reality check for my ego to come here once in a while.

  However, my most recent trip to New York City had quite an opposite effect.

  We had come back to the city to attend the Shorty Awards ceremony, an award show for digital influencers, and supposedly I am quite “influential.” *Ahem*

  I arrived at the show and found myself walking the red teal carpet next to the likes of Bill Ny
e and Karlie Kloss and other television stars. I wasn’t really surprised when the photographers asked Dad to hold me up and away for a clearer photo of me.

  However, Dad being caught up in the moment, didn’t realize he was being framed out of the photos, and was comically still smiling like a doofus for the cameras.

  Poor guy. I wondered if I should tell him, but I figured I’d let him enjoy the moment.

  Once we were seated at our dinner table, the announcer began the reveal for the “Best Animal” category. Our hearts nearly stopped . . . “And the winner is . . . Crusoe the Celebrity Dachshund!”

  “My very first book signing was in New York City! When I first saw the cops, I was about to make a break for it out the back door, but turns out they just wanted to get my pawtograph! *Phew*”

  We couldn’t believe it! We raced on stage, Mum holding me in her arms, Dad scrambling to remember his speech. “Don’t screw it up, Dad!” I whispered.

  I also couldn’t help but realize, once back in our hotel room, that the “Shorty” Award is taller than I am. I’m not sure, but I feel like that must mean something. . . .

  I wonder if people will recognize me in the streets now? I guess we’ll see, but for now this city has me feelin’ tall.

  Keep winnin’,Crusoe

  “I only fly with WIENER AIRWAYS because they offer unlimited snacks, complimentary toilet water, and extra wiener room!”

  Life at Home

  I might be a superstar of the digital world, but at home I live a pretty regular, low-key, even modest, type of life near Ottawa, Ontario.

  In fact, when our harsh Canadian winter is almost upon us, it’s not unheard of that I’ll start burning furniture because Dad is too cheap to turn on the heat just yet.

  I also do more chores than I should.

  Like, I am way too famous to be seen meandering about a third-rate grocery store trying to find whatever the heck “two bunches of radicchio” is?! How about two bunches of this is ridiculous!

  Plus, I always get recognized by people and then am forced to make awkward small talk about all the bananas in my cart.

  Dad also says that if I want to stay warm during winter, I need to help him collect firewood.

  He cuts the big logs, and I cut the small ones into kindling (chew sticks).

  In fact, sometimes after several days of lumberjackin’ it with Dad, I find I’ve grown a full man-beard! This is what hard work will do to you, kids!

  Despite being very accustomed to big cities and bright lights, I’m a country dog at heart, and often escape to my weekend chalet up north in Quebec for some fun in the wilderness, like ice fishing or hunting for the infamous Sasquirrel (a cross between Sasquatch and squirrel). I’ve never seen one, but I see the tracks like all the time.

  Every spring I help my Cousin Charles with the maple syrup production. My job is to sit in the bucket and make sure no thieves come around (hey, maple syrup is cutthroat business up here).

  I’m usually shrunken and shriveled by the time morning comes around on those cold nights, but it’s worth it for all the maple syrup I can eat!

  As a Canadian pup, I’m very tolerant of the cold, and love playing in the snow.

  “I’m into fittness; ‘fittin’ this’ whole stack of pancakes in my mouth.”

  The extra-cold weather up here makes sitting by a fire extra-satisfying. Not to mention if you have your favorite ferret with you!

  Spending time at my chalet is also nice because I get to visit my longtime friend and mother-figure Laffie. She’s older now, but we still lead some great expeditions together. It’s nice knowing she always has my back, too.

  “Wait a second,” I said, halting her in her tracks while out on a wintery walk one day. “Look up ahead, I think—could it be? It must be a Sasquirrel!”

  Keep runnin’,Crusoe

  “And look, there’s tracks leading right up behind me! It must have been following me this whole time!”

  “Anyone who’s never tried a real Quebec poutine has no idea what they’re missing (including a couple pounds).”

  “Winter isn’t so bad when you’re dressed for it!”

  Grindelwald, Switzerland

  I was udderly excited to visit Grindelwald, a region of Switzerland that feels so truly magical it’s like something out of another world. Sitting on that stump, I looked out over the Valley of 72 Waterfalls. Plummeting over those cliffs are breath-taking waterfalls, cascading down into nothing more than mist.

  I guess it’s no coincidence that this place was the inspiration for J. R. R. Tolkien’s Elvish city of “Rivendell” in The Lord of the Rings.

  We spent much of our time hiking among the Alps, enjoying the fresh mountain air and gorgeous scenery. As always, I led the adventure, barely staying in sight of the group.

  We often paused to admire the grazing cows in the mountain meadows. For the same reason as the cows wear them, Mum fitted me with a little bell so she could always hear where I was as I tromped freely and happily about.

  However, the cows were a lot less endearing when they were blocking our passage along the road, shooting me sinister looks. Seriously! Dad even had to carry me while near them because they would become agitated seeing me walk about.

  (I know I can cast a rather intimidating figure.)

  We made it through unscathed, and as we climbed higher in the mountains I was delighted to see something I recognized—snow!

  I had figuratively felt on top of the world many times before, but this was something else.

  As we hiked our way back down, the humans incessantly complaining about their knees, Dad explained to me how the Swiss people consume the most cheese per capita, and that’s what all the cows are for.

  “Cheese?! Well, why didn’t you say so!” So, I devised a clever disguise to infiltrate the herd, my mission being to find out where they keep the cheese and make off with as much of it as it as I could.

  I made my approach, slow and lumbering while munching grass so as to blend in with the other cows. I was almost upon the herd when my stupid hat fell off and one of them spotted me. She came bounding toward me at full speed! I would have s*** my pants if I were wearing some, but luckily Dad swept in at the last minute to save me. *Phew*

  I was pissed though, so yelled at the cow, “Forget cheese, I’ll be eating plenty of liver treats from now on!”

  Maybe cows don’t like me. Whatever. I still had an incredible time in Switzerland; the mountains, wide open fields, and breathtaking scenery make it one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.

  Keep climbin’,Crusoe

  “During winters, I work as a volunteer avalanche rescue dog. Number of people’s lives I’ve saved: 0. Number of people’s lunch boxes I’ve saved: 25.”

  California, USA

  “Hello, front desk? Yes, this is Crusoe who just checked in. Yes, the room is very nice, thank you. I just wanted to ask, is it okay if I squeak my rubber chicken? It’s very loud so I just wanted to check. As loud as I can? Even on the bed? Fantastic. Thank you.”

  Sunshine, warm weather, bikinis, popsicles, a dog-progressive attitude, and a hotspot for celebrities; California had my name all over it!

  After arriving in the metropolis I’d heard so much about, Los Angeles, I was also very pleased to see Mum and Dad had finally reserved me a convertible instead of their usual donkey-cart of a rental car.

  We pulled up to the hotel fittingly in style. I always love exploring my new hotel room.

  The very first thing I had to do was visit my “Mecca,” The Hollywood Sign. I got a good look at it, but with the sweltering heat that day we couldn’t hike up close enough for a good pic.

  While in the area, we headed over to the Griffith Observatory to enjoy a nice view of Los Angeles.

  “Muscles? Check. Dodgers hat? Check. Lookin’ so hot I’d melt a popsicle? Check.”

  “Oh my!” I exclaimed as I looked through the telescope. “What a wonderful babe-watching invention this is! Sexy ladies, as far as t
he eye can see!”

  “Okay, I’m putting you down now . . .” Mum said.

  “No no no—” but it was too late, I was on the ground. I later told Dad that we should install one of those on our balcony back home.

  We then found our way to the Travel Town Museum in Griffith Park; a neat little place where you can learn about the history of LA and its roots in the railroad system.

  The worker crew must have noticed my shovels-for-paws, for they asked me to come help them out for a bit.

  I inadvertently put them all out of a job when I later overheard the manager saying he was going to replace the whole team with dachshunds. Can’t blame him, though.

  Next, I headed over to the Santa Monica Pier, where all the muscular, athletic, cool kids hang out on the boardwalk. I think I did a pretty good job of fitting in.

  Before we could leave LA though, I had to do one last thing:

  So, I guess it’s official, I am the celebrity I always thought I was. A huge thanks to my fan who hand-crafted this for me.

  It was time to continue our journey, and before long, we were cruising north on California’s famous Highway 1 toward San Francisco.