The weekend is a blur, let me tell you. When Pretty is in town, we all crank it up a notch. I tend to occupy my “special place,” i.e, jail, much more than I do when Slow is in charge of activities. Yeah, Slow sticks to making her regular visits to talk to Granny Selma who resides in the Name We Dare Not Speak, although we might as well since GS won’t remember whether we did or not. I don’t mean to be cruel, but she’s gone galactical on us and I feel we should christen her Lady Gaga II. Most of the time Slow takes me with her to see her Peep Mother, and a visit to Granny Selma makes you count your marbles to make sure you still have all of them when you leave that place. She just LOVES moi but can’t quite remember my name any more. “Well, now, who do we have here? Did you say his name is Fred?” Fred???? Fred??? How could anyone in their right mind confuse The Red Man with a Fred Man?? Oops! Well, I guess we answered our own question there, didn’t we? Heh, heh. My little joke for the day is pathetic – on many levels. Sigh. Oh, well. At least, Granny Selma seems to have a good attitude, as Slow invariably tells Peeps who inquire about the Ancient One.
But, when Pretty is in the house, she rocks the house!! On the go, on the go, on the GO! I’m not sure where they go all the time, but one day they went somewhere with one of the Little Women on Worsham Street and her husband in their golf cart. You heard me, their golf cart. Off they went like a herd of turtles. I could see them from my jail window. Slow rode in the golf cart with the neighbors, and they were meeting Pretty in town. Pretty likes to walk to town, and she wants to be there as soon as there’s any possibility of a store being open. Pretty loves a store almost as much as she does Slow and Ollie and me. Well, at least Slow and Ollie. I’m a distant third on that short list. Whatever. The Red Man can take it. At any rate, off they all went for Peep Parties in the metropolis of Montgomery’s downtown area.
Christmas in Historic Montgomery, or some bullshit like that. Frankly, I can’t imagine anything more frightening or less interesting, but the Peeps carried on like it was this Big Deal complete with a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it parade plus a tour of the historic homes spruced up for the holidays and an optional tour of the Museum. Yawn. I hate to sound like a Party Pooper, but I think I’d have more fun catching a few zzzz’s in jail. Even Ollie wasn’t that interested in going with Pretty, and that’s a rarity for Mr. Smokey Lonesome Where’s Pretty Going Now Boring Dog.
I’m the first one to admit it when I’m wrong, but, brother, I was wrong about Historic Montgomery festivities! When they came riding up in the golf cart later that afternoon, they had these big white gift boxes loaded on the cart behind the front seat. And I’m talkin’ about BIG WHITE BAKERY boxes, too! You know, the kind they put BIG cakes in when you get them at a bakery? Like the Italian creme cake we get that has FOUR layers? (A personal shout out to the author of the book Pretty’s reading right now about dogs. God bless you for the chapter on the importance of Peep food for our diet. I like to think you had the Italian creme cake in mind, but I digress.)
Well, there wasn’t a cake in those boxes, no sirree, no sirree, no sirree. You know what was in each one of those BIG boxes? COOKIES, COOKIES, and more COOKIES!!! Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about, sports fans! COOKIES. Little white cookies that had red sprinkles and green sprinkles, big versions of those white cookies, chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon cookies, gingerbread cookies with white icing, peanut butter cookies, sand tarts rolled in powdered sugar, rice krispie treats made like Christmas trees and dyed green to match, fudge with pecans, fudge without pecans, peanut brittle without peanuts. Not really. Just checking to see if you’re still paying attention. Heh, heh. I’ve never seen so many different cookies in my life. Ok, I give up. Where did they get thousands of cookies in that little town?
I heard Slow and Pretty talking about it later on that evening as they opened their boxes and did their own version of a Wine Tasting, with the major difference being they used cookies. They’d pick one up and sniff it and talk about the fragrance and whether it was a vintage chocolate chip or nouveau. Then they’d take a big bite of it and ooh and aah about the delightful texture of this cookie and shouldn’t they compare it to another cookie to be sure which one was the best. Then, they’d giggle about their success at The Cookie Walk. Apparently, The Cookie Walk was held in the Old Courthouse building which is now the Community Center. People lined up outside the building for blocks until they could have their photo taken with Santa Claus who guarded the door. Once you entered the building, you were handed one of the Big White Bakery Boxes and a clear thin plastic glove for choosing your own cookies from the zillions of cookies stacked on trays crammed on tables inside the Center. Evidently, it was like the Friday after Thanksgiving for homemade cookies, and everyone was grabbing for cookies and stuffing them in their boxes while high school students dressed like Santa’s helpers zipped around keeping the plates filled with more cookies and candies. At the end, you pay someone who weighs the cookies and charges them by the pound. Let’s hope they took credit cards! I told Ollie it was a good thing we weren’t there. We probably couldn’t get in past Santa, and I doubt the plastic glove would’ve fit our paws. Who cares? The main thing is we have LOTS of cookies at our house now.
Hey, will somebody please pass me the cookies? Hey, you daffy old twit – slip me a peanut butter one, will you? I LOVE THE PEANUT BUTTER ONES!!! Aaaahhhhhh….life is good. And so are these cookies. The next sound you hear will be the voice of Pretty bemoaning that she ate too much. Slow will munch on.