furt'•wang•ler: a four-footed, furred, weenie-shaped creature with large eyes and manipulative personality. Also: Lusso.
Lusso is a young Chihuahua who became part of our family a little under three years ago. We stand guilty of microchipping him and dressing him in purple sweaters and strange hats during the holidays.
I must add that we have also fallen under his spell and are now trained to respond on command to his every whim. The other night we were sitting at the dinner table, watching him do his begging routine. The guy has it down pat. First, the gentle touch of a tiny paw on your leg. Just one little touch. But then he keeps it up, one little nudge followed by another, until you have to look at him, ostensibly to tell him to stop it. If you fall for the gag and happen to lock in on his intent, buggy-eyed gaze, it's all over. You just find yourself pinching off a piece of chicken or beef or whatever else might be on your plate, and despite a Strangelove-like effort to hold it in check, you watch your hand pop the morsel into his mouth. I've been trying to practice NOT LOOKING and so far, it's not working.
It helps to call out when this routine is about to go down so everyone at the table knows not to be taken in. So we have a code word now. Of course, this new word is like many others we've bestowed upon his wee-ness. So there's one right there. We have called him "weenus" so much, he now answers to it. Shorten it to "ween," and he still comes running. In our house, there is a state of weenus-osity, which is to be generally squirrely, rather like a Chihuahua. We'd just about run the whole weenus gamut when this nouveau appellation, brought on by His Weenus' beggarly ways, arrived unexpectedly. Elliott was the first to say it. "FURTwangler," he said. A weiner-like creature wangling food from hapless diners. Frankenweenus? I asked. No, he said. FURTwangler. He's a furtwangler.
So now I find myself mouthing that word, over and over, while I'm driving, working out at the gym, during meetings, or when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store. Like that maddening jingle you can't escape after unfair exposure to Muzak while taking the elevator to the 40th floor, the furtwangler word is omnipresent.
