Whew, Doggy

Whew, doggy, but ain’t it a hot one?

Whew, doggy is a funny phrase to me. I googled it after typing it. According to Urban Dictionary, whew is “a whistling sound or a sound like a half-formed whistle uttered as an exclamation” and is “used interjectionally chiefly to express amazement, discomfort, or relief.” Here’s the example that Urban Dictionary provided me to put the phrase in context. “He gave a long whew when he realized the size of the job.” Well, I’m 41 now. Most of my life is giving a long whew. So I get the whew part of the phrase. Urban Dictionary had nothing to say about adding the word doggy to the end of the expression. So I’m at a loss as to how I might explain this idiom to you. My lexical powers only go so far.

Forgive me. The heat is getting to me. So far as I can tell, the West Coast is scorched earth as I write this. The Pacific is drying up. The sky is on fire. Have you seen the movie Pacific Rim? I haven’t, but they play it 74 times a week on TNT. I think it is about a monster coming out of the ocean, but I can’t be sure.

Look, I don’t actually know what is happening on the West Coast. Because I’m out East in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania Furnace, in fact. Talk about hot. My air conditioner can barely keep up.

Whew, doggy, whew.


I bought a Slip and Slide for the boys last weekend. From Target. I also got them some sort of panda-themed kitty pool.

We got the Slip and Slide working fine. Not much to it. A hose and some plastic. But I sliced up the panda-themed kitty pool pretty good. So many things to inflate. And one of the things wouldn’t inflate. So I took a screw-driver to it. Don’t ask why. Or how. Needless to say the pool didn’t hold water when I was finished.

“Yeah, it has a hole in it,” I told the nice fellow behind the counter at guest services the next day. I didn’t say where the hole came from. Just exchanged the pool for money and went about my day. Don’t tell anybody.

The Slip and Slide was a real hit. We ruined our backyard. I had a beer or two last Sunday, and decided to join my boys on the mat. Stripped down. Slipped and slid. The boys loved it as I flung my bulbous and aging body onto the tarp. The damage I did to my knees is indescribable. The English language couldn’t possibly capture the state of my knees. And my legs were covered with bruises. But I slipped and I slid and my boys seemed to have a good time. I woke up the next day in agony. Not the least of which because I rarely have a beer or two, and my body was annoyed that I had poisoned it.

Whew, doggy.

It’s not all Slip and Slides and debauchery over here.

The boys started basketball camp last week. Three hours in the morning. Shooting, dribbling, and rebounding. Oh my. Katie and I stuck around for the first session. Watched a little as our boys played. Samson is about 2 centimeters tall. And he spends most of his time wondering around the court with his hands in his pockets. But his shots are getting closer to the hoop. And he had fun. Solomon, on the other hand, is something of a prodigy. Dare I mention Lebron James? Solomon hit a couple of shots as I watched. And he played some intense defense. And, as importantly, he had fun.

The Tanner boys are learning to play basketball as their father loses the ability to walk because of an evening on the Slip and Slide. Whew, doggy.


It’s July. It’s hot. The summer is already racing along. I’m hard at work with my friends opening an improv theatre. Have I mentioned the Blue Brick Theatre? Trying to keep up on my writing. My academic work. It appears things will be open in the fall. I’ll return to campus. Travel for conferences. No rest for the wicked. Or the bruised.

I can’t believe my sons are old enough to be playing basketball. A video of Solomon from three years ago showed up on Katie’s phone the other day. Timehop. There was a tiny toddler, unable to string together words. And now there’s a little person living with us. String together so many words that I get dizzy. Hitting jump shots. Playing solid defense.

And then there’s me. Don’t talk about bald spots or poochy stomachs. I don’t want to hear about it. I’m forever young. Slipping and sliding in the backyard. Until my legs give way and I’m laying on the couch. In agony. Lamenting the heat.

Whew, doggie, y’all. Whew doggie.

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