my dear sweet savage stormswept shark-faced bullet-brained battle beast
had a milestone in his short young life.
he turned one.
...and we always celebrate a berfday around here.
rules is rules,
even when it's for a terrible terrier who doesn't care one whit about
partying or anything else-
he did like his party hat, though.
that's no joke.
he strutted around proud as a peacock with his sweet turquoise lid on,
and i must say, with the expected bias of a proud papa-dad:
he is one handsome mutha'ucker.
check the berfy-d-type teleport:
say his name, neighbors.
say his full name-
CONSTABLE CRABTREE AT INTERVALE.
that's my man, my main mango, my boy.
one year old, and lookin' GOOD.
i love the way he reciprocates all of my gentlest affection
with high-test high-intensity hucklebutt hard-style hammering and yammering
through the haunted halls of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and also all the way across the sprouted expanses of the woodsly goodness.
i chose him, i think, because instinctively i knew something about him-
he IS the wrench.
(dedicated long-time readers will recognize the reference-
i always choose the wrench)
what did we do to celebrate?
we made biscuits for dat boi.
you know the routine by now;
without treats, it's like it isn't even happening.
we baked 'em up, and they came out lookin' very expert.
one mashed sweet potato,
a scoop of coconut oil,
three spice-grinderfuls of coarse-ground oatmeal,
the last scoop of cooked white rice (from our previous indian feast)
a shake of tapioca, two shakes of brown rice flour,
a spoonful o\f baking soda,
a handful of coconut,
and a spritzin' of cinnamon,
one bowl, two eyes, and a desire to make something special,
since crabby never ever ever gets people food.
that's cool, right?
i thought so, too.
i baked 'em like they were cookies,
(just like all the recipes i've ever given you)
and since they are also vegan AND yellowy-orange?
i ate some, too-
they weren't very sweet,
but they weren't bad at ALL, y'all.
...what i mean is,
with a little sugar, i'd totally eat a lot more of these,
and really, truth be told-
if they weren't shaped like dog bones,
i'd have probably eaten 'em just the way they are.
he got 3 new toys, one from me,
one from harvest,
and one from maple.
he destroyed them immediately.
he has a new collar,
he has a party hat,
and he has me.
moreover i have him,
and that's the best and worst present we've ever given each other.
was he fired-up on berfday biscuits, and badly behaved all night?
it's his party, and he'll ruin it if he wants to.
did his big loose b*-hole produce some sour sweet potato toots?
it seems no good deed goes unpunished, people.
he's infuriating, and he's recalcitrant,
he's obstinate, he's rambunctious,
he's a big bulldozer of stubborn-headed hard-styles,
and he's also just barely not a baby anymore.
i love the little A*-hole,
and maybe, just maybe, he likes me a little bit, too;
never quiet, never soft.....