Rats and Dawgs

 
 
This week I took a trip to Athens, hovel – er, home – to the University of Georgia and their mascot, the Bulldogs. Better known to its fans as the Dawgs. Here in the Deep South, where I live, folks take the sport of pawball very seriously. So when I scurried my way into Sanford Stadium, I couldn’t help but feel I was scuttling onto holy ground.
 
I got to squeak hello to Uga, the live mascot. I gave him a muzzle nuzzle, and he responded with a slobbery lick! He was very pawspitable, especially when he chased away a few stray cats who were eyeing me as if I was made of ratnip. ’Tis never impressive to one’s guests when you end up the dinner of their enemy.
 
In fact, I have Uga to thank for my safe return back to Ratlanta. While I was visiting UGA, I came upon some other rats who thought I was a fan of their main rivals, Georgia Tech, considering I live in the same city Tech calls hovel. They looked like they were ready to feed me to those stray cats when Uga thankfully put his dogged paw down.
 
“Bob can’t be a Tech fan,” he barked to the rats. “He’s displaying our colors!” Sure enough, my black rubber fur and beady-red rat eyes do indeed match UGA’s colors. So thanks to one bullish bulldog who refused to back down for a guest, I stayed out of the dog-hovel.
 
That’s certainly enough for me to become a fan. Go Dawgs!
 
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob

Pi Day

 
 

Break out your forks and your fractions, your pastries and your protractors – it’s Pi Day!

 
Yes, Pi Day. Today, 3/14, at 1:59:26 a.m. and p.m., we crossed twice the threshold of pi, a number signified by the Greek symbol π that is equivalent to 3.1415926535897932 (etc.). It goes on forever! And so too, I think, should pie.
 
People worldwide celebrated the day with their favorite baked concoction. Some went for the savory with chicken pot pie; others preferred sweet, like cherry or peach. (The latter is definitely a favorite where I live in Ratlanta, Georgia, because Georgia is the Peach State!)
 
All those pies were all right, but their filling would be a good topping on my favorite pie, cheesecake. That’s right! Don’t you know? Cheesecake isn’t a cake, it’s pie. Custard pie, to be precise. (Just ask celebrity chef Alton Brown!) And a mighty fine custard at that.

   
So today, 3/14, at 1:59:26 (ad nauseam) a.m. and p.m., I pulled out my trusty custard pie and sunk my incisors right in. And I plan to do so again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Because while doing math repeatedly is downright pawful, I’ll ponder the perfection of π any day.

 
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob

Fond of Fondue

  

 
It’s no secret that I’m pawfully fond of food, and I’ve squeaked of some of my fine dining experiences in the past. Recently I took my squeaktacious spouse, Bobette the Mouse, on a romantic rodent date to an upscale fondue restaurant. Now, you might be concerned about rats scuttling around places humans dine. Let me assure you: we rodents are more concerned about our tails accidentally falling into a fondue pot of sizzling oil. To be safe for all parties, I made reservations ahead of time for our own little corner in the back—close to the scullery, of course, wherein we might find some fallen scraps.
 
The best thing about fondue restaurants is that most begin the meal with a cheese fondue pot. This was certainly the case at our restaurant, but we made some ratty alterations to the menu. While you humans enjoy dipping foods like bread and vegetables into your cheese fondues, Bobette and I enjoyed things like old banana peels, some little chunks of drywall, and, for health purposes, the occasional seed or nut. Our second course differed too: instead of the meats and sizzling broth or oil you bipeds consume, our pot was filled with—you guessed it—more cheese. And for dessert, of course we had the chocolate cheesecake fondue with rancid cherries for dipping.
 
One of the challenges of many fondue restaurants, as any of you who have been to one likely knows, is that they can cost a pretty cheese crumb. But when you have someone special in your life like I do, whether your relationship is romantic or not, some events are worth saving up for. So before we departed, I spent a few more crumbs to have the staff squeak Bobette a special serenade song I scratched out for the occasion. It went a little something like this:
 
The four types of cheese came out steamy and hot
As we both crouched around our nice big fondue pot.
 
The garbage was great and the cherries so sweet
That it made us both squeak, “This tops all-you-can-eat.”
 
I saved up my crumbs so we’d come to this place,
Bow our snouts to the ground and o’er cheese squeak God’s grace.
 
The fondue, of course, was as good as can be
The cheddar, the Swiss, Colby-Jack, and the brie.
 
Life is grand on a night on the town with your spouse
Whether she (or wh’er he) is a human or mouse.
 
She is sure worth to me a spare cheese crumb or two,
’Cause I’m fond of my wife and I’m fond of fondue.
  

Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob