It's a very important day here at my house. The boss man has turned
238. He's older than Methuselah. Hee, hee. He's entering his
golden years, now, so I guess I should probably try to take it easy on him.
More important than the birthday itself, though, is the cake. Mmmm....cake. I helped bake him a cake for breakfast AND a cake for later. Can you believe it? I didn't even get a single cake for my big day and already he has two.
So, anyway, as I was saying, I was very helpful in the kitchen. I always am. I help by sampling ingredients for freshness. I have the most important job of taste-testing any batter to make sure it is fit for consumption. I mean, what's the point of baking something that's not up to my standards? If it doesn't taste good raw, it probably isn't going to be any better after it's baked. I remind the boss ma'am of this by barking at her while the mixer is running. That way, she remembers to let me lick the beaters.
The
boss man argues that my reasoning is flawed. He says that dogs (not just
me) have very little judgment as to what we put in our mouths. He thinks
that just because I have been known to eat unmentionables that I can't be
trusted to let him know if he'll like his cake. This couldn't be further
from the truth. The information is all there. It's not like I
publish a review for anything I sample (but if I did, the breakfast cake would
get 4 paws of 5), but just look at my eyes. See? It's easy to know
when something is really tasty.
I'll bark at you later!