A hot dog ain’t nothing but a sausage — just emulsified, rather than blended. It’s got as much dignity as its maker and eater choose to give it. It can be one of the handmade gems of cured, Spanish chorizo from Segovia Meats. Or it can be a tube of questionable origin, caged in the rotisserie heat-lamp prison at 7-11, waiting to feed drunkards at 3am.

Somewhere in the middle, there’s the incongruous concept of Buddha Dog. The room — exposed brick walls, high ceilings, reading material strewn about — is maybe not Zen, but a groovy spot to sit and coast for a spell. It’s unclear, though, if it’s intended for kids or adults. The Pucker Up strawberry lemonade ($2.50) is a welcome thirst-quencher, but it’d be nice to be able to order a coffee or even a beer.

The connection between the restaurant’s mascot — a chubby demigod who believed that following the Noble Eightfold Path would lead to the cessation of attachment and craving and, therefore, suffering — and miniature, novelty wieners is nebulous. Buddha Dog offers one type of hot dog ($2). They’re pleasing li’l wieners of salty, smoky beef in a thin casing with a soft bite, cooked on a panini grill. They’re aged, ground, stuffed and smoked by butcher Ted Aman in Wellington, Ontario. There are three types of cheese available — aged cheddar, pepperjack and mozzarella ($0.25) — plus brie on Fridays. Buddha’s gimmick includes a selection of 12 sauces ($0.25) to gussy up your dogs, including standouts like sweet caramelized onions, almondy Indian butter, smokey ketchup and a surprisingly spicy jerk.

Though we knew they’d be small (these dogs are about 4 inches long, weighing in at 1 to 2 ounces), as soon as the first batch arrive we want more. Our server says, “People usually order from the counter so we can ring it in” (on a sheet of Minority Report paper wired with light sensors). Can she take our order tableside? She replies, sincerely, “If I can remember it.”

Ten hot dogs, tucked into their micro-buns and adorned with festive-coloured sauces, feel like a visit from the Lollipop Guild. They’re scarfed down, more as sport than meal, in as much time as it takes to identify them.

We’re not quite sure what the menu means by “local chefs rethink soups and chilis” when describing the Buddha Bowl (a.k.a. soup of the day). Maybe the local chefs have rethought the excellent cup of butternut squash soup ($4.50) as a phenomenon “existing” only because of the “existence” of other phenomena in a complex web of cause and effect covering time past, present and future because all things are thus conditioned and transient and have no real independent identity. Or it might just be a bowl of soup.

There are few experiences in life genuinely improved by being drunk, but this might be one of them. It’s definitely fun watching these fun-sized dogs disappear in two chomps. Like smoking Popeye Cigarettes or getting a BA in philosophy, they’re insubstantial but enormously fun.