Dinkie Races at The Woodlands
Nicky (second from right) literally was on the tail of Rufus during one of the races Sunday at the Wiener Dog Nationals at The Woodlands

Every dog's a wiener at The Woodlands By WRIGHT THOMPSON, The Kansas City Star

The lobby of The Woodlands is packed Sunday afternoon...with wiener dogs.  A total of 278 dachshunds have applied. Sixty-four are randomly chosen to race. Fat ones. Skinny ones. Hairy ones. Spotted ones. For some reason, it seems that many of them are wearing K-State colors. (Hmm, a purple dog. Guess they are dressing up as Bill Snyder's schedule.)  No, this isn't a sequel to "Best in Show." It's the 10th annual Wiener Dog Nationals. It's got to be the weirdest sporting event in Kansas City. This is a sporting event, you know. Hey, if Dale Earnhardt Jr. is an athlete, so is little Spenser.  Signs on the front door tell the barking tubes and their owners where to go. Posters and T-shirts display unintentional double entendres: i.e., Size doesn't matter. If your wiener needs to relieve itself....

There are men actually betting on which dog will be the first to the finish line. Kids, can you say gambling addiction?  Last year, 4,800 showed up to watch. As the day wears on Sunday, track director of marketing Connie Loebsack gets on the walkie-talkie for the attendance estimates. Almost 8,000 people, she's told. That's not a typo: 8,000 people for wiener-dog racing.  "Awesome," she blurts. "Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. It's amazing how much people love this. They take it very seriously."

In the lobby, Spenser won't stop barking. Owners Sandy Foley and Steve Smith look exasperated, like parents with a wailing infant on an airplane. He's even nipping at other competitors.  This is like a boxing weigh-in. Only thing missing is Don King. Oh, wait, there's Don King. No, sorry, it's just a fluffy dachshund.  Many of the dogs are rowdy. Down on the front row of the staging area, 7-pound Dinkie Winkerson is yelping and growling. He never does this. 

"I think he thinks he's at the vet," says Sandy Wiehe, stroking his head. "The only times he's been around this many dogs is at the vet's office. And you know what happens there. Shots and thermometers."  She leans over to talk with her dog, who has been swimming laps every day to get in shape.  "It will all be over soon," she says, soothingly. "You can get all this energy out."  "But Mom," the dog says back, sounding strangely like his owner, "this ain't the pool."

Fans of bad hot-dog puns -- i.e., Mattie is behind and needs to ketchup -- were given a gift 10 years ago when this race was started. Most of the contestants are from around here -- though one contestant did fly a dog in from Washington state. One dude brought his dog to the track in a limo.  Lots of different people like wiener dogs. Wiehe is the middle in a three-generation chain of owners, all of whom are present Sunday. Royals pitcher Jeremy Affeldt and his wife, Larisa, own Rusty, which she is racing. Alas, the dog finishes last in the heat. Sources close to the dog's paw say there is a nasty blister.  "Bark, bark, bark," a source says. "Ruff, ruff, growl."

As the contestants wait their turn, most try to keep their dogs hydrated -- and keep them from leaving souvenirs for the cleaning crew. Most are successful.  Most, Loebsack spots an accident on the floor by a pole and takes action.  "Security," she says, "you wanna call maintenance to come clean up a mess?"

Misty and Diana Brown have their dog Sassy ready to race. They feel she's got what it takes.  "She's pretty quick in the back yard," Misty explains.  Others go through their contestant goodie bag, checking out the chew toys and shampoo.

In the first of eight heats, Sassy blows away the competition and wins a spot in the finals. While that race is going on, the second-heat folks are going over last-minute details. Wiehe tries to keep Dinkie calm. He's had a hard go in his year and a half.  When she adopted him, he was frail and wasn't expected to live.  "He looked like a tennis ball with legs," she says. "He was so little I carried him around in my coat pocket for months."  She takes him out for the second heat, where he squares off against Spenser -- our little Mike Tyson. Dinkie is running off with the race as he nears the finish line, then Spenser makes a surge.  Near the finish line, Spenser leans up to the lead dog and grabs hold of his little jacket. The bite is enough -- and Spenser wins.

"The dog pulled his coat," Wiehe says, shocked.  "He would've won."  Spenser's family is excited, but now they've got to wait for the finals.  "That means we've got to listen to the barking for another four hours," Smith says as he takes the dog for a ride to calm him down.

It's like a million degrees outside, but loyal wiener-heads stay. A local radio station will give out 3,000 funeral-home fans to help cut the heat before the day is done.  Slowly, the finals are set. There's Corky, owned by Chelbie and Marty Glenn of Lawrence. He has the fastest trial, going 110 yards in 13.3 seconds.

The crowd favorite is Simon, a 27-pound porker who is too big for his jacket. He's racing naked -- the track announcer calls him an "exposed wiener."  He wins his heat going away, his big torso and little legs making him look like Joe Pesci doing a wind sprint.  "Big Mac, here I come," owner Ron Higgerson says after the race.  Finally, after five hours and eight heats, it's time.  "They all stay focused," Loebsack says. "It's a different race. None of them go backwards."   The eight dogs march out to the track. OK, they are actually carried out.

"Come on, Spenser," a man yells.  "Who's that?" Foley asks.  "I don't know," Smith says, surprised they've already gotten a fan club.  When the race starts, it's clear Corky will run away with it. He's 6 years old and as fast as lightning. When the dog is held in place on the winners' stand, a fan yells, "Steroids." Everyone chuckles. Coming off the track, a man approaches Marty Glenn.  "You won me $20," he says. "That's a good deal."