Tales of Center City

I have a cunning plan. Follow the stump.

I took mama on a little detour after I'd done my afternoon "business" in Rittenhouse Square park. She thinks I forget these things, but I know EXACTLY where every dog store is in town. In EVERY neighborhood that we've explored. And today I want a cookie.

So it's off to Just Dogs Gourmet. Where I can peruse that bakery case and choose my own snack. Oh, the agony of choice.

And look - they've got a swanky new window display since the last time I was here.

It says, "Officer, it was the raccoon, I swear it!" (yeah, those raccoons are shifty).

And this time there was a kitty inside, who was incredibly cool and we actually got to sniff each other a bit.

I'm sure he was just watching me from inside after I'd left to be sure that mama was giving me my tasty treat right away. Yeah, that must be it.

Actually we had to walk for a little bit to find a place to sit down and chomp. But of course, first we managed to walk past this and a photograph had to be taken to commemorate the occasion (notice my expression of happiness - I'm actually sticking my tongue out at mama in annoyance, but she thinks it's cute)...

Ok, one more, this time with feeling...

Now bust out that squirrel. Cookie squirrel, that is.

Oh great and powerful squirrel cookie, I am thankful for your sacrifice into my belly, and happy that you will provide me with some energy to get through the rest of this crazy walkie on such a hot day.

A-chomp!

I am a squirrel man. I chase 'em, and in cookie form, I eat 'em. But mama saw this one and she couldn't help herself, she had to buy it for me (yeah, something isn't completely "right" with her, but lets humor her, ok?)...

And as we all know, the proper technique for eating any tasty morsel that has the shape of any animal or human is to bite the head off first. I intend to honor this fine tradition.

Goodbye Head

Almost forgot the rest of the tasty body. Gimme that.

It was really, really hot today - Indian Summer, they call it. It's just plain hot. Hot on the toes, hot under the fuzz. So a quick romp over to Love Park to sit by the fountain and let the wind and the spray do it's work.

No way I'm jumping in - not that I'm allowed to anyway - I'll just watch it from here. Purty.

Love,

Bogart