Emmy Lou has decided that fall is her favourite time of year. She likes the piles of leaves to root around in; she likes the extra treating-carrying capability afforded by my fall jacket and she especially loves to charge at big groups of migrating Canadian geese near the muddy watering hole in the park.
For the last couple of weeks, any trip to the park has resulted in some kind of goose/shar pei mêlée. The dog gallops joyfully into the fray, her plump ham hock legs a-quiver as she scatters those majestic birds and trots triumphantly to the edge of the dirty puddle to drink from it and whiz near it.
Emmy Lou is a braver soul than I. You may recall my last close encounter with Canada geese at the tail end of my lauded sea lion appreciation video in February. I like to give the geese lots of room to move, which is why I tend to hover a good 40 feet away from the flock and enjoy Emmy's interactions with them from a distance.
Today was no different than any other - Emmy led me on a merry chase through the on-leash community garden part of the park, emerging across the street from the Animal Control office, where on-strike workers watched me try to wrangle my dog out from under a rusty bicycle frame. Lucky they don't hand out fines for calling your dog a "dumb ass". Untangled, we ventured onto the field, where I spied the geese. We split up at this point, Emmy heading towards the birds and me headed towards the baseball diamond, where I knew she would eventually join me for a liver snap and some affection. I watched her charge the geese with gusto on her way to the watering hole but was slightly disturbed to notice that the geese didn't seem concerned. In fact, aside from some prefunctory scattering, they pretty much stood their ground. Then, one of them honked and took a step towards Emmy. Then the others followed suit. Seconds later, Emmy looked up from her drink to find herself completely surrounded by belligerent fowl.
Emmy's no fool. One bird, maybe she could take. But there was no way she was going to win against NINE of them. Quick-thinking, she distracted them by shaking the water from her jowls and then taking off at a run towards me.
The geese RAN AFTER HER.
Emmy picked up speed.
The geese sped up too and then took to the air. "The air" being about four feet off ground. I froze as they zoomed towards me, honking angrily and flapping. The following went through my head.
What do I do? Duck? Ha ha - duck duck goose. Man, I hated that game when I was a kid. Especially when my brother played and we had to remind him that he couldn't just keep saying "duck, duck, duck" for an hour, at SOME point he would eventually have to say "goo -"
At that point, my musings were interrupted as Emmy whipped by me into the dugout and I nearly lost an eye while being buzzed by a flock low-flying geese.
About ten minutes into the walk home, I felt something spiny pressing against my neck. I rooted around in my jacket and pulled out the offending article. It was a feather. Fucking geese.
Today's truffle porn:
Raspberry (on the right) - Silky dark chocolate ganache paired with a thin layer of pure raspberry. (It was like the Raspberry Fairy was wearing a chocolate bra and rubbed her boobs on my tongue)
Jamaican Rum (not shown because my camera is out of batteries) - Milk chocolate ganache with Jamaican rum rolled in extra dark cocoa and sugar for a delightful crunch (The dog was so disgusted with our groans of delight that she had to leave the room and lick her crotch in the hall)
