My family has a long history of weenie-roasts (bonfires with hot-dogs, for those who don’t know.)
We had a weenie roast every 4th of July at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. And every 4th of July we’d carefully select our homemade, wire-twisted roasting stick from the dozens hanging on Grandma and Grandpa’s tree.
I’m not sure exactly when we started calling the weenie-roasting sticks “dog-stabbers”, but I do know who sparked the trend: Aunt Martha (of course).
Since that fateful (undated) day, they have been called nothing else.
Friday night, a group of us girls invited ourselves over to a friend’s house for a bonfire–and I realized that, for once, I would have a dog-stabber and a dog in close proximity.
Thus, the picture.
For the record, Jersey (the dog) was not hurt in the making of that photo. In fact, no dogs except the already dead Verdigree weenies or Wimmers Natural Casing Weiners ever are.
A great thank you to Jon for preparing a bonfire and (relatively) skeeter free yard for us–and for joining us for conversation around the bonfire (despite an early morning the next day.) And to Kathy, for welcoming our impromptu suggestion of a bonfire (and providing a dog to be stabbed!)