Seamus likes toast. There is no such thing as eating a whole piece of toast when Seamus is around; he looks so pitiful your conscience won’t let you do it without sharing.
Toast is one of his favorite foods; it doesn’t matter if it has a jam or butter on it, plain “toast” is good enough … and his favorite is the piece from my hand. I suppose if I were to put a hamburger in his bowl and a piece of toast, the hamburger would be gone first, but the toast wouldn’t last long.
I’m constantly getting scolded from “She Who Must Be Obeyed” that it’s my fault that Seamus begs. Truth be admitted to, Seamus gets almost as much from her hand as he does from mine, she’s just a little more subtle about it. Seamus knows where to go for a handout.
Toast is a staple …no, a necessity, in any fish or grouse camp. It must have originated when someone burnt bread around a cook fire. Then adding a little butter and something sweet, like jam or honey …wow, ”let’s do that again.”
Most of us take toast for granted, that is, until you eat it in a mess hall with several hundred other people, all having gone through a “chow line” in about ten minutes with less time than that to eat it. Of course the toast is just a part of the creation the Army calls SOS, (If you don’t know or remember what SOS stands for, ask you dad or granddad) or, chipped beef on toast will do.
An entire industry sprang up around toast. A few months ago, SWMBO, decided our old toaster wasn’t performing to her standards. So, having learned over 48 years of training not to ignore a hint, I started looking for toasters on line – it doesn’t pay to put things off too long once SWMBO starts talking about “needing” something replaced.
Finally, after hours of internet searching and in store comparing, there is a new toaster on our kitchen counter. And after a not too short tutorial, I can do the same thing I could do with the old one.
As for Seamus, he still thinks toast comes from my hand.