mission impossible

A lovely treat from Miss Edith and her mom finally found its way into Baxter's happy little tummy recently. A mission of sorts for tiny chumley, who usually doesn't get that much rawide at one sitting. Wherever tiny chumley went, he took his bone, protecting it proudly from whatever might interfere with his overwhelming desire to gnaw it down to the very last bit of gooey goodness.

Even the notion of chasing squirrels didn't deter the kielbasa from his desire to stick with his newly acquired friend, taking the bone with him as he attempted to mwoof at the rude intruders who were distracting him from his mission.

Little kielbasa went out on deck and stood like a grumpy man who had been interrupted from his afternoon bath, who was barely dressed in an old robe and boxer shorts, and yelling at those pesky squirrels all the while his rawhide cigar hung precariously out of the corner of his mouth. "Youf guysh schtay away fwum heah" he mumble barked. "I'm bushee hnow, buht jusch choo wait." If tiny chumley had fists, I'm sure he would have shaken them at that moment, but as it was, he was satisfied that he had put the squirrels on notice, and so my little cranky boy with the cigarhide in his mouth turned and promptly trotted back to the door, where he waited to be let back inside to begin his mission anew.