On Parks and Dogs

Sunday- August the 26^th

Being a particularly fine Sunday, Mother, Mr. Corsair, and I aspired to visit The Rocks, a grand Park we had much wished to frequent this summer, but had failed to find time for earlier.  The Park proved to be glorious, if more crowded that we would have like (it is far more pleasant to have such a Wilds to oneself so one can explore at Leisure without the bothers of renegade youths running here and there while their chaperones follow, calling out). Corsair seemed quiet at home among the towering stones, though I fear he was Not Enamored with the larger cave that remains one of my favorite features of the park. It seems to be closer quarters now than how I remember it, but I still find navigating the chill stone in the dark to be quite the Thrill.

While adventuring, I could not help my amusement when I noticed in My Dear Ruffian a resemblance to the sporting dogs we used to raise when I was younger - for he would chase off to explore some hollow or crevasse, reappearing coated with woodland debris (and looking altogether too pleased with himself) to wag his tail at us for a moment before becoming distracted by some new challenge and trotting off again. In-between such visits, Mother practiced her skill at photography, of which I am ever envious, and took a number of lovely shots. She was also of a mind to capture an image of Corsair and I together, but I fear her skills were not quite up to the challenge of two such as Us, for looking at the photos afterwards, it seems that invariably neither of us could manage a normal face if the other’s looked halfway decent. Still, I am Glad to have such memories preserved and very thankful to Dear Mother for it.


After the light began to fade and we tired some of traipsing about, we returned to our own fair estate in search of Dinner. Finding none to greet us (Father had consumed a late and rather splendid sounding luncheon while we were out and had not been of a mind to cook) but having plenty of eggs on hand from our hens, we decided to create a garden omelet. Corsair and I undertook the task, but I’m afraid he soon tired of my Suggestions – the fellow is many things, but a proper wielder of a cooking knife he is not!  His Methods were still more than equal to the poor vegetables, and we soon had a Fine and Fluffy omelet of all the best vegetables and herbs from the garden (that, my Ruffian insisted, more resembled a quiche). Corsair and Father found it passably edible, but Mother thought it stood among the better omelets she had encountered so I was Well Pleased.

~Chef Morewit

(When tired out, he reverts more to a pleasant lap dog, making very peaceable company)