I'd say this indulgence was some form of remorseful apology after the "dog-wig" post (did I really just refer to a "dog-wig" blog post, of my own creation? sigh), but at the time, it was probably more of a reward and relief for one very long, VERY hot drive up to Vermont for the weekend. A bum A/C, a black car, and rush hour traffic out of the city combined last Friday night to create a mobile dog oven on 93 South... sure, it was cooking one human as well, but I have the privilege of sweat glands... Oscar dog, sadly, does not. By the time we made it to Montpelier, a maple creemee (VT-speak for "soft serve") at Morse Farm was pretty much mandatory in order to stay conscious for the last 30 miles home. I would have gladly shared my cone with the Beast, but he took it upon himself to go paws up onto the counter at the order window and suggest a dish all to himself. No really. He did.