The Truffle Shuffle

So, it has been awhile since I got back from Wisconsin, but I totally forgot to remark upon something that Sarah tried to make me do while we were there.

You see, it turns out that the Midwest has its own version of the truffle. It's called a morel. Supposedly, there are things called truffle pigs, which are basically pigs that search for truffles.

Now, obviously, Sarah doesn't have a pig (oh Lord, please don't ever let Sarah think that getting a pig is a good idea). However, Sarah, in her infinite capacity for stupid ideas, decided that a dog (Yours Truly) is probably an adequate substitute for a pig in the realm of mushroom hunting, and that I should become a Morel Dog.

I really wish I was kidding about this.

At the beginning of Sarah's quest to make me a morel dog. If I look happy, it's probably because I am thinking of ways I can thwart Sarah's efforts. Sarah's failures never cease to amuse me.
Of course, I was NOT going to put up with this sort of thing. I mean, really, why in the world would I want to find morels for Sarah, who would probably sell them and use the proceeds to find some new way to torture me. Like I'm going to let that happen.

So, instead of letting her attempt to teach me to hunt truffles, I ran off. It was a most excellent decision. Because, really, if I'm going to hunt something, it's going to be squirrels.

Here I am, headed off into the woods to search for squirrels. The last thing Sarah saw of me was my butt. I find this appropriate.