Chet Baker Steals the Butter!

These holidays have held so much joy for us. Corey comes to visit. We went birding on New Year's Day and found all three falcon species (kestrel, merlin and peregrine!)

Bolt upright, regal

Ohio River falcon

dresses up a bridge

To know where she is

Make the pilgrimage on foot

So much like worship

She, our own Horus

iPhonescoped photo by Bill Thompson III

 We also have been playing a little music (more on that later).

Corey and Phoebe toast our sighting of the St. Mary's Peregrine in a hobo's swing under the bridge,with some muddy beer bottles.

And those chirren bake. Oh God, do they bake. This photo is from January 2014, but they did the same dang thing yesterday. Cranberry orange cream scones. There really is nothing better under the sun, and I'm helpless around them. Just get them out of my sight, please, because if I have to look at them I'll have to eat them. And I did, 2 of them. And now I have to go run again. A lot.

Chet Baker has this thing where he begs for boxes. If he sees someone finishing up a box of cereal or Cheezits, he MUST have the box. He will rip it to smithereens, and then I will pick up the smithereens.

These are things that never change. 

So Phoebe and Corey were finishing up four quarters of butter, and he was begging for a butter box, leaping up to grab it. She jokingly asked him if he wanted butter and waved a stick at him. And he grabbed that stick of butter out of Phoebe's hand and took off!

When he realized how delicious was his treat, he began to drool, and he took off to find a place where he could enjoy it, and blow out his pancreas at the same time. (Large amounts of fat are really bad for dogs).

Well, that was not going to happen. We all gave chase, laughing as we went. This set off a game of Keepaway, which as we all know is the Boston Terrier's forte.

Chet's cave is beneath the kitchen table, so after a few turns around the living room, he repaired to his cave.

He was a bit surrounded: Phoebe behind him, and Corey in front, taking these photos, and me to the side, admonishing him not to eat that butter!

Uh-oh. Now Mether is going to crawl under the table. I feel a spitbubble forming at the corner of my jowl.
I am unrepentant. I want to eat this butter. I want to eat all of it.

And given half a chance, I would. But Mether is using her growly voice now. She is escalating.

I told that bad little dog to sit and stay and I got the butter back from him and I told him he was very naughty. With kisses afterward.

He was not sorry, not one bit. And now...NOW...when we take butter out of the refrigerator, he roos at us. As if we're going to just spontaneously grant him a whole stickabutter for hisself.

Dream on, bad little black dog. Dream on.

Last two photos by Phoebe Thompson. The rest by Corey Husic. Badness by Chet Baker. 

That dog is SO BAD.