“Look at that cute little face!”
OK, so there was this KFDI Doggy Runway Fashion Show on Saturday at Century II, during the annual Women’s Fair. Many thousands showed up.
Bare-chested and helmeted calendar photo firefighters — one with substantial tattoos, all with excellent abdominal muscles — strode on stage to show off some of the dogs.
The dogs were made to wear red jammies, or red stocking caps, or pink dresses, or some other foo-foo, lacy dog-fashion apparel.
“Isn’t that just the super-cute dog!”
said in unison by the audience at the Doggy Fashion show
None of the dogs misbehaved, so none of the helmeted and bare-chested firefighters had to use their substantial abdominal muscles, or any other substantial muscles, to pull on doggy leashes and coax “oh-those-cute-little-doggies” back into their stage trot routines.
Apparently, at such fashion shows, it is the custom of the person with the stage microphone to say cute things about each dog trotted onto the stage, and also to pronounce the word “Awww!” as often as possible, often in unison with the “awwwudience.”
So say it again:
The show was a benefit for Hands of Hope Rescue, and many of the doggies had been rescued, had been adopted, or were up for adoption. Some had been rescued from situations involving abuse.
The audience was substantial, several thousand, crowded nine-deep in a semi-circle at Century II’s main stage. It was so crowded that Sydney Fraley, a 4-foot-11-inch-tall sixth-grade English teacher from Tonganoxie, Kan., was not tall enough to actually see the cute dogs from the back of the crowd.
So Fraley did the heroic big-sister thing, and hoisted Carleigh White, her 7-year-old sister, up high in her arms so Carleigh could watch.
“Awesome!” Carleigh said, from high up in her perch. (Note that “awesome” is not the same word as “awww.”)
Carleigh braced herself at times by putting her hand, palm down, on her big sister’s head.
Carleigh has two dogs at home, Fraley said, Dixie and Lulu. “Cute!” Carleigh said of her dogs. (But is there any other kind?)
“Awww!” said the master of ceremonies, from the stage. “Isn’t that the cutest little puppy ever?” She was referring to a tiny dog trotting on stage, wearing pink jammies.
“Isn’t that just 100 percent sweetheart?”
Standing two feet from Fraley and Carleigh was Stephanie Dyer, a mom tall enough to see the stage; but she had her daughter Abbie, 11, perched on her back, for near 20 minutes so that Abbie could see the stage also.
“Seventy pounds, is that what you weigh, Abbie?” Dyer asked, with a substantial grimace. She obviously loves Abbie, and Abbie obviously loved the puppy show, but Dyer’s arms were giving out.
And what did these women think of the bare-chested helmeted firefighters with the ab muscles?
“It makes it a little more appealing,” Fraley said, as she struggled to hang on to Carleigh and to peer with curiosity through the substantial crowd.
But Dyer was not substantially impressed.
“It makes it awkward, frankly, with this 11-year-old on my back,” Dyer said.