It's Dad's birthday!

Today is Dad's birthday and we're having Salisbury steak for dinner! I'm not sure what kind of steak that is, but it's STEAK! This is a good thing! 

I'm not sure what we're going to do special for Dad's birthday. He had one of those weird video chats with his litter ma.......er........siblings last Sunday. Mom's home today and I heard them say something about going to pick up Walther. All I can say is birthday or not, Walther had better not be another cat. 

Dad and I have spent a lot of time together over the years. Mom's been off working, but that's changing. She's going to be home more now and we like that. It'll keep me busier, having two parents to watch every day, but I can do it.

Keeping an eye on Dad is harder than you'd think. He goes outside and has me stay inside. I do not like this. He worries I'll get into some mischief or even get hurt while he's puttering around in the shed or using the John Deere 1023. Do you think now that he's had another birthday that will change? Me neither. 

Dad takes me down to the creek almost every day when the weather is fit for him to be outside. He gets the mail and I splash around for a bit. Then I look for the frog and he laughs at me, but that's ok. 

A lot of days we guys just hang out and that's pretty cool. We can't do that when Mom's here. Dad's not constant movement the way Mom is. 

So, happy birthday, Dad! I'm really glad you're my Dad and we get to take care of each other, sort of like it was meant to be. You're a great Dad! 

Now, who is Walther? 

I feel neglected

 

I'm feeling a bit neglected lately. My parents are busy with a bunch of projects and they're ignoring me. Mom's been busy with her tomato seedlings, Dad's been cleaning the guns and designing a shooting range to be built into the hillside. They were both working on the new work/cook station on the patio. They've both been on the tractor and the mowers. 

Where has poor little Deucie been? Stuck in the house, that's where! 

It's not like I get in the way too often. I know to move when the tractor is headed in my direction. I know to move out of the way really fast if Mom has the water hose in her hand. She'll spray me! 

You know, this doesn't make any sense. I love, love, love jumping into the creek but I don't like getting sprayed with the hose. Huh. Does that make me odd? 

Mom told me she's about done with her projects and will take time to play with me more. I hope that means long walks! I'm ready! 

Mom and Dad work hard to make sure I have a good life. I have a nice rug on the patio now, and shady places to stretch out and relax while I keep an eye on everything. I guess I shouldn't complain when they leave me inside for my own protection. 

Then again, I'm Deuce. I'm smart. I'm also getting suspicious. 

They're going to grill steaks on that new Blackstone and if I'm inside, I won't get any. 

They're not getting away with this one! 

I helped by staying out of the way!

Deuce helps make garden racks

The weather was great today! Not too cold, not too hot, just right for Mom, Dad, and me being outside. Mom had all this garden stuff she wanted to do and she needed Dad's expertise with the cordless drill to get it done today. I helped by staying out of the way. I mean, the sun was sooooo warm and my fur is black and it was sooooo nice to just flop in the grass and feel the warmth of the sun on my toes. 

We have an old pool pad beside the front porch. My parents used to put a pool on it but it's gotten sort of dangerous for Dad to climb in and out of a pool so Mom's using the spot for what she calls her garden corral. Dad helped put down a new tarp, build the racks, and get them set in place. 

Here's the problem with all this. So Mom is growing veggies. 

Peppers. I can't eat them.

Cucumbers. I don't like them.

Radishes. Yuk.

Spinach. Double yuk yuk! 

The Garden Corral ready to go

Carrots. Um... maybe, but probably not.

Lettuce- four kinds. No, no, no.

Peas. Nope.

Tomatoes. No.

Pumpkin. Yes! But I have to wait so long to get some!

Watermelon. Heck, yea!! Make me some frozen treats! 

Are Dad and I glad there's no kale on this list? YES!

So as you can see, there's not a lot for lil' ol' me to enjoy in the garden corral. I have a sneaky suspicion that if I forget myself and pee-pee on any of Mom's grow bags, I'll be in the deep doggie doo-doo. 

Tomorrow, Dad's getting on the John Deere 1023 and helping Mom do a few more things. Cousin Dave gave Mom some blocks to build a wall down on the turn of the driveway. Those careless Amazon delivery drivers have turned the corner into a muddy mess by driving up the bank. Mom and Dad say some nice concrete will stop them from being able to do that. It's a shame Mom won't let me scare any of the delivery drivers.

Not that I'd EVER scare Mary the Mail Lady. She's pretty cool. She likes me a lot and always gives me a treat. Plus, Dad says she knows how to drive slowly and is respectful of our lane, not like the Amazon drivers. Mom used to get my treats through an Amazon subscription and she canceled it because the drivers are so disrespectful. She told me not to worry, though. She can get my snackies at lots of other places. 

The thing is that if this silly garden corral makes Mom happy, Dad and I will go along with it. If Mom wants to make pickles, we want to watch. If Mom wants a big salad made with lettuce she grew in a grow bag, we'll stand back and let her enjoy it. And if Mom wants to raise a steer for steaks, we're all in!

How about it, Mom? Got any plans for beef?

****Note from Mom****

Sorry, baby. You know I'd turn a calf into a pet and then where would we be?

I protest this unfair treatment!

 

A long time ago I said I wished I had thumbs so I could help Mom carry stuff. I was a lot younger then, like only one.  A lot has changed since then. I've recently decided I should stop coveting thumbs. Like just yesterday I decided. Dad has thumbs and it didn't help him cook. 

Now, Dad's a pretty good cook. I love, love, love it when he cooks eggs. Eggs are good, well, maybe not as good as steak, but good. Getting steak in this house just became problematic.

Dad's also a good bread baker. Mom and I talk about this sometimes when I'm in her office begging for snackies. She tells me I had bites of bread and that's all I get until morning. I do not like this but I'm a good boy and I listen. 

Soooo, Dad was making something called pita pockets. They are de-lish, for the record. He used his favorite skillet, the one he sears steaks in, for his project. He also used a rubber spatula in a hot skillet. 

And this is why there will be no steak fat for the dog, a.k.a. ME, in the foreseeable future. 

This is cruel and unusual punishment. I protest!