Hello and woof. Or should I say, Guten Tag und voof.
I am a female dog, or Hund, as the Germans would say.
What? Oh yes, ha ha, that does make me a bitch. Good one. I haven't heard that before.
Anyway, my name is Nadia. Very Russian spy-ish, I know, but how was I to object as a young pup covered in placenta?
My significant owner, Ashlea, has imparted onto me the duty of writing her column this week. My task: Find something worthy to say about beer and Oktoberfest.
At first I played dumb to get out of the chore, licking my own butt and drooling on her shoes. Then I held up my paws and looked up at her with my slightly crossed eyes, as if to say, "Why, I am just a pooch with poochy paws — how ever can I type?"
But she didn't buy it. She must have caught me pounding out my doggy manifesto the other night, titled, Bitches' Brew: A Case for Animal Alcoholism. I started it last year when she accidentally poured Everclear into my water pale and I hallucinated squeaky toys and fire hydrants for a month. What a beautiful month that was.
But after a few whimpers and whines (from her, not me), I relented. So, I woofed down a brew for inspiration and I hopped up on the desk, ready to hound after what gives Oktoberfest its oom-pa-pa.
Get it? Hound — 'cause I'm a dog, and — fine, never mind.
As far as my pea-sized brain can remember, Oktoberfest originated in Germany as a celebration of Prince Ludwig's marriage to Princess Therese of Sachsen-Hildburghausen (say that after a six pack of brewskies).
Now, as the largest festival in the world, Oktoberfest is a celebration of German culture, including food, music, people and — most important to you upright people-type — beer.
Think rosy-cheeked, roly-poly Bavarian men jumping for joy in Lederhosen. Think plump Brats dripping with grease.
Actually, no, don't. Instead, drop them on the ground, those unhealthy pieces of filth. Drop them at the corner of Mill and University this Friday at 6 p.m. and I'll be sure they're taken care of.
Moving on.
I heard Ashlea say once that Oktoberfest is a good idea, though it fails in its ultimate mission. How can Bud Light and Budweiser — the spotlight beers up for tasting at Tempe's Oktoberfest — represent this kooky German culture at its best?
The 'k' in Oktoberfest isn't the result of drunk spelling, after all. It's the mark of many of our ancestors.
Well, mine at least. I had a distant cousin, Schwein Hund (Pig Dog) who lived in Munich, a haven for bitches like me and a central location for Oktoberfest.
Unfortunately, good ol' Schweiny met his unfortunate demise when an overzealous group of cloggers clogged right over him. But in the cloggers' defense, I heard that Schweiny got sopped on Heineken beforehand and stumbled directly into their path.
One might think this would make for a good case against drinking beer, but not so! An excess of the yeasty delight might lead to violence in some, a gut in others and the inability to distinguish between another dog's ass and a human leg — but the general pleasure of beer is enough to celebrate it every year.
Or, rite at this moment, az it seemz to bee the case for me.
I hav just lap-peD my thurd bug of meeer and my tale iz wagging with D-light.
Woops. Did my paws slip on the keyboard for a second? Damn these poor excuses for opposable thumbs.
Oh, don't worry. I'm not subliminally trying to encourage beer drinking. That would be deceptive and just plain wrong.
Nope. I'm deliberately trying.
Drink more beer. Beer is good. Beer makes the pain go away.
At least, this is what I've heard Ashlea mumble in her sleep from time to time. She looks so sweet sometimes, asleep in her own pool of vomit, eyes rolled into the back of her bloated head.
Of course, she always seems to curse the pale ale the next morning (though it doesn't look so pale on the way up).
But aside from the German culture and Ashlea's affinity for it, beer has become part of another culture that makes celebrating Oktoberfest worth its while.
The college culture has embraced beer — from cheap substitutes such as Keystone, to the flavor-rich remedies found in local breweries such as Four Peaks and Bandersnatch. These local legacies, explored further on page 6 (what, a dog can't count?), are like yearlong Oktoberfests, full of seasonal selections and unique flavors.
You don't have to indulge in cheap beer to enjoy the German roots of this year's Oktoberfest, and you don't have to miss out on a tasty tap just because you're not in Lederhosen land.
You simply have to be human to appreciate the essence of a good beer — or me, Nadia, the female beer-drinking dog.
Now, if only they'd come up with a nice doggie brew — brisk bacon or frothy feces perhaps.
Reach Nadia at your local pub or fire hydrant.