A New Crop

When I first discovered the pizza tree growing in my backyard (see story here), I was excited.  I hoped that that one single slice of pizza would go to seed and produce hundreds and hundreds of pies.  Neapolitan!  Sicilian!  Grandma!  Deep dish!  Ahh, the choices would have been endless (and that's not even going into the different types of toppings I'd grow as well as my eventual side crop of garlic knots).

Sadly, however, I believe I got ahead of myself.  You see, I've recently come to the sad conclusion that my pizza tree is a dud.  In the five months since I discovered the first slice, no additional slices have appeared (and believe me, I've looked).  It goes without saying that I was, and still am, quite bummed over this fact.

But a few days ago something happened to lighten my mood.  I discovered that perhaps I really do have a "green thumb" (even though I don't have thumbs, per se, and the only way my fur turns green is when I run around like crazy in the backyard, trip, and end up with grass stains from skidding across the lawn on my chest).  You see, I might not be able to grow pizzas, but I can, apparently, grow burnt English muffins.

I discovered my burnt English muffin bush quite by accident.  It was late one night and Ma and I were outside for my final business trip.  Try as I might, however, I was unable to concentrate on the task at hand because of the wafting smell of burn bread emanating from the backyard.  I followed the smell like a bloodhound and tracked it to a flowering bush three spots down from the debunked pizza tree.  Seeing that the muffin was perched on top of the bush (which was quite tall), I implemented Plan A (climb the bush), but I quickly gave up on the plan because the branches were not sturdy enough to hold my weight.  Then I moved on to the ever successful Plan B: bark hysterically until someone comes to help (this plan always works, especially late at night or early in the morning when my family is afraid that I might wake up the entire neighborhood with my vocalizing).

As expected, Ma came to my rescue and, armed with a flashlight, cautiously approached the bush (she later told me that she had no idea what I was barking at and was afraid that I might have cornered an animal).   She peered into the bush and, upon realizing what I was barking at, reached in and pulled the burnt English muffin out.

Then Ma did something horrible; she carried the burnt English muffin into the house and threw it out in the garbage without even giving me so much as a crumb.  I mean, what gives?!  I found the muffin!  I tracked it!  I tried climbing the bush!  And just because I couldn't reach it I lose out?  It's just not fair.

Me and My New Toy

But I guess everything works out in the end.  I might not have gotten the chance to chow down on a burnt English muffin, but my friend Ralphie and his mom did give me a new toy which I've really been enjoying.