THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, February 13, 1995 TAG: 9502130212
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines
DOO DAH DAWGS. Do we have some zany dogs in Hampton Roads or what?
Entries with photos are already coming in from dogs owners who want their pooches to have a bite of fame and fortune by becoming the Doo Dog of Destiny.
The winner will lead this year's Downtown Doo Dah Parade on March 31, have its face on official parade posters and fetch a canine fantasy package of gifts and goodies.
So why let the parade pass your mutt by when - with a bit of luck - it can be leading the doggone thing? Meanwhile let's look at some Doo Dah Dog of Destiny Contest entries:
Maureen Strama of Furrow Reach in Virginia Beach says her bichon frise named Snow White is a Doo Dah natural.
``When the family comes home she jumps in the air and twirls around,'' Maureen says. No Red Dog this one. ``She barks at people, but when they come near, she gets scared and runs away like a white rabbit,'' Maureen says.
Maureen has enclosed a photo of the dog wearing a cap. Interesting eyes. Hoo-boy. I know a pot-smoker when I see one, Maureen.
Wow! Look at this photo of Madeline, a basset hound owned by Edward and Quincy Hazlett of Ashland Avenue in Norfolk. Madeline has an ear span of 1-by-9 inches! In the enclosed photo, the dog is flopped on the rug. Its ears look like the wings on a fighter plane. Incredible. Easy to see Madeline is turned on about being in the contest.
Also entered is the Hazletts' dog, Petunia. The photo of Petunia shows her wearing a white tutu. Chawming.
Jack and Sandy Mitchell of Rader Street, Norfolk, nominated their 80-pound bulldog Winston. Winston is an unabashed cross-dresser who loves to wear bows, ribbons, mesh hose and an occasional negligee, they say. Sounds like Doo Dah material to me.
Mugshot, a boxer owned by Christine Hosler of Maison Court in Virginia Beach, is a real troublemaker. Mugshot goes to the park with the kids, slides down a sliding board and swings on a rope. The dog sneezes and yawns a lot at home. For entertainment, Mugshot chases cats or grabs the afghan off the couch - hoping someone will chase him as he romps with it through the house. When the afghan hangs off his shoulders, he sometimes resembles the Phantom of the Opera. Here's a dog that has written to enter himself in the contest. Unbelievable. The dog's name is Jack Russell. He hangs out on Wessex Lane in Virginia Beach. ``Hello, let me introduce myself,'' the letter begins. In the letter Jack says he is a ham. The enclosed photo proves it. The dog is posed with huge sunglasses, looking very cool while sprawled on a chair with a leopard skin cover. Veruh nice, Jack.
Just imagine your dog looking good as it leads Hampton Roads' greatest assortment of goofballs and misfits down Main Street in Norfolk. It could happen.
Just send us a nonreturnable photo of your mutt and tell us some of the crazy things it does. The deadline for receipt of entries is Feb. 21. Mail to Doo Dah Dawg of Destiny Contest, c/o Larry Maddry, The Virginian-Pilot/ Ledger-Star, 150 W. Brambleton Ave., Norfolk, Va. 23510
TALKING HOUSE. I couldn't believe there was such a thing. A talking house?
That's what the caller said on my answering system. The phoner left the number for Ward & Hollingworth Realty in Virginia Beach.
I figured they probably hid a ventriloquist in a hollow tree in the yard whenever a prospective customer showed up: ``Hi. I'm Ralph the Talking House. Come in and look around while I fix some coffee.''
I phoned back anyway. Turns out there are talking houses. Sort of. Dan Cline at Ward & Hollingsworth says it works this way. A house broadcasting system about the size of an answering machine is on 24 hours a day on a selected frequency.
A prospective purchaser can drop by the house at any time - there's a sign in the yard that says ``Talking House - Tune car radio to (frequency) for information.'' The house says things like ``I have a brick fireplace with owls on the andirons.'' Or whatever.
Cline says the signal can be heard from 300 to 400 feet from the house. Customers like the convenience, Cline claims. I told him my house whistles - when a northeaster blows wind through the cracks in the walls. ILLUSTRATION: Snow White
Winston the cross-dresser
by CNB