Christmas Corn Dog destined to become classic

What you are about to read is destined to become a Christmas classic, mentioned in the same breath as Rudolph, Frosty, and the Grinch.

I say breath carefully, because this tale is about Buddy, aka Boo Man, Sputters, Mama’s Little Pussy Dog, and now, just in time to participate in a corny Christmas tale, The Christmas Corn Dog. You see, ruthless, toothless Buddy (he actually has three left) has the foulest of breaths – even fouler, I would wager, than the Grinch’s.

Buddy, you will remember is the 15-year-old homeless waif The Consort took pity and brought home from the Humane Society of Central Arizona (HSCAZ) one night when I wasn’t looking. Buddy was probably abused by a man, because for the longest time he would growl and snap if I even so much as looked at him.

Being the gentle, patient, kind and loving man that I am, I persevered for many months to earn Buddy’s trust. Why, I wanted it is a question I can’t answer. The only thing I can think of is that he is a dead ringer for Toto in “The Wizard of Oz” – except for the missing teeth, of course.

But from day one Buddy has been the ultimate eating machine. I have never seen a little guy who can pack away the food he can and still be hungry. He is so excited when it’s time to eat that he literally dances around the room.

And if it’s not time to eat, Buddy scours the floor for anything he can put in his mouth, including lint. He loves to go through the bathroom wastebaskets when nobody is home so he can pick clean the dental floss therein.

Anyway, twas the night of the big Mesa del Caballo community Christmas potluck. The Consort, who had to work at the shelter that day, made up a simple dish in the morning before she left home.

Now usually The Consort makes only the most complicated dishes in the world, even though they are always billed in the recipe as simple. I know this because I am the designated kitchen cleaner upper, and I have cleaned up after some doozies.

But the all new HSCAZ cookbook (“Favorite Recipes for People and Pets by the Supporters of the Humane Society of Central Arizona”) had just come out, and this time The Consort struck gold. Gold as in really simple, and gold as in corn.

The recipe was Lulu’s Corn Casserole, and The Consort whipped it up and left it in the refrigerator. It goes like this:

1 can creamed corn
1 can whole corn
2 beaten eggs
1 box 8 ¾ ounce corn muffin mix
1 C. sour cream
1 sm. can diced chiles
1 tsp. salt
2 C. grated cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix all ingredients together. Bake in 9 X 11 pan for 75 minutes.

Later that afternoon, following the instructions left for me on a sticky note, I popped Lulu in the oven. After 70 minutes I made the executive chef’s determination that it was ready and took it out.

This is where the first Christmas miracle happened. About halfway through the potluck, a woman hollered out for all to hear, “Who made this corn dish?” I looked over to make sure there was no mistaking the dish and replied, “The Consort.” The lady replied that it was outstanding.

The Consort beamed and I, in the true spirit of the season, humbly smiled inside, for although I had actually cooked the dish, I willingly relinquished the credit. I mean, I’m the one who stuck it in the oven and took it out. As I see it, that’s the cooking part.

To make a long story short, when we went to get our dish at the end of the evening, all of Lulu’s Corn Casserole was gone, except a few minor scrapings. As I carried it proudly out the door, past the row of half-eaten dishes, I remarked to The Consort that we had clearly created the hit of the evening.

We headed home to live happily ever after and to wish all a good night, but there was still another miracle waiting to play out. When we got home, there was the Boo Man waiting for potluck leftovers. He looked up from his dental floss expectantly – and a bit guiltily.

Talk about feeling like Scrooge. All I could do was put the empty dish down on the floor as I apologized profusely.

But lo and behold, Buddy rose to the occasion, exemplifying the true spirit of the holidays. Unperturbed by the scanty leavings, he ripped into that empty dish of Lulu’s Corn Casserole with a vengeance – and I took a picture to prove it.

He licked and he gnawed and he slid that dish around the kitchen like one of those angels on high playing a harp as she floated on a cloud. It was poetry in motion. All that was missing was the robe and the halo – and maybe some decent breath.

As Buddy reached a crescendo, The Consort and I paused, looked at each other, and reflected on the true meaning of this blessed holiday. Because there in this humble creature could be seen a miraculous example of America’s greatest holiday tradition – eating oneself into oblivion.

Buddy had transformed into The Christmas Corn Dog. Across this blessed land, may you all go and do likewise.

Oh, and you can pick up the new HSCAZ cookbook for just $15 at the shelter or the thrift store. The proceeds go to a good cause – finding homes for the likes of Boo Man.