ARE TOO MANY AMERICANS OBSESSED WITH CELEBRITY? A person or object of fame or being celebrated can often be designated a good moral, ethical, honest entity to be honored with compliment an appreciation. Yet, there are some to whom this fourteenth century noun is applied that must be labeled less than honorable. Americans tend to honor most objects of fame whatever the resulting ethical judgment. One reading the recent Drudge news report can take note of a variety of ascriptions. The June 10th note that former President William Jefferson Clinton has been named by an organization as “father of the year” is I submit most interesting when viewed from almost any person’s perspective. Reviewing this year’s omission of famous baseball celebrity players from the Hall of Fame nominees list also commands attention and focus on the sport’s alleged drug problem. Some in our societal ethos are so mesmerized over meeting or thinking about a highlighted celebrity that faulty rationalism takes command of one’s senses and inaccurate ascriptions of honor and fame are less than accurate and honest. Celebrity defects can be overlooked in certain profiles of politicians, judges, movie stars, television personalities, athletes, coaches, singers and most objects of pseudo veneration. Although increased age and education can refine fame recognition and evaluation even that background often fails many among us in evaluating highlighted celebrity figures. I propose that each of us expand our horizons to include a much broader focus for this noun celebrity. It’s perfectly fine to continue our inclusion of famous human celebrities but what about including our beloved pets as well. We certainly are well educated when it comes to their strengths and weaknesses. Only recently my son, his wife and family lost their beloved dachshund of fourteen plus years. Addie was a true celebrity not only by evaluation of friends but the experience of mom, dad, and a young family. Even we grandparents loved and honored this little lady—in my opinion a deserving celebrity. I present her true story written by her dad, a devoted admirer. Alan G. Phillips, Sr. Addie Takes Charge Young couple, one month married, Time for their very first pet, “Perhaps a dog or a cat?” Not a firm decision yet. “Weenie dogs are really cute, You’ll really like their size. Short hair smooth, long ears floppy, Irresistible brown eyes.” Nothing at the local pound, Except a “tiny” great Dane, “Shoveling that manure, Though, could cause our backs some pain.” Exploring local papers, Wondering where we should go, “At last one dachshund for sale In the Riverton, Bureau.” Richard Wagner, mailman Selling his puppies homegrown, Playing toys with each other, None with mean-spirited bone. A circle around each eye, Fuzzy bunny in her mouth “Addie” leaps into our lives, And starts the journey down south. Bloomington an hour away, Phone calls begin to be made, “Look! A raccoon with babies! Come see our new dog displayed” Into the house Addie marched, Taking her place on the throne, She played all night with string balls, Gnawing a favorite wish bone. “So where does a dachshund sleep? In a box or in our bed?” Night one her master decides, Night two to bed she is led. Reigning as queen of Ardith, Knowing just what she should do, Retrieving balls for hours, Placing them next to a shoe. Her life was long, fourteen years, Filled with so many tales Perhaps a glimpse you might catch, From these poetic trails. Trip to Clinton, antique mall, The drive through at Dairy Queen Ghirardelli, Chicago, The Michigan Avenue scene. A Baker’s Square French silk pie, Sitting near Doug’s easy chair, Chomped it down lickety split Doing it with “savoir faire.” January, ninety-nine, St. Louis, thirty below, “Walk outside? Are you kidding? On Alan’s coat I will go.” In our yard, a hoagie roll Like manna fell from the skies, Clamped it down between her jaws, Determined to keep her prize. Too many tales to tell, But even good stories end, Here are a few more snap shots, Odes to a furry old friend. Summertime meant grass on her back, Butter with corn if you please, Rolling in rabbit doogie, Yet somehow avoiding flees. Drinking water made her hack, Pluck her belly, hear the goose. A hotdog on Halloween, The only time she broke loose. Friend to all dogs, East and West, But Audrie was her best pal, Accomplice in chasing squirrels, At fences digging canals. She’d shake to get a cookie, Chomp, chomp went the crocodile. “Be Easy, Addie! Easy!” See how the dachshund smiles. Under the covers she went, Always a blow hole appeared, Like Shaw shank bored through Sherpa, There’s nothing she ever feared. Her energy was endless, Except when taking a walk, She never liked grass when wet, Nor jingles around the block. But saying “Goodbye” is hard, Knowing that she was our first, Sharing memories with us, The best of life at its worst. So thank you Addie Paddie, By you our lives were blessed, In Heav’n now chasing ballies All playtime without a rest. *Addie was born on April 30, 1998 and died January 3, 2013, while we were visiting Karrah’s family in Provo, UT. She passed quietly while sleeping in bed (with us!). She was Rick and Karrah Phillips’ first dog and long-time friend of the dachshund Audrie, more recently of the dachshund