DawgLand RiverDance

Hark and heed, or perhaps, Bark and Deed is more fitting to this tale, but none-the-less, O noble followers of the gallant tales of Sir Beaumont of Sheepadoodle, Knight of the Order of the T-Bone! Gather around as I, your humble chronicler, relay the latest chronicles from the domain of meats and misdemeanors.

Merely a sennight (look it up fair reader) past, the Lady Louise, our oft-maligned and technologically challenged hooman, vowed to conclude the epic saga of the T-Bone—a promise as shaky as a poodle on a paddleboard, but a promise nonetheless.

The T-Bone was delivered, oh yes, and immortalized through the lens of modern wizardry—photographs! Yet, in a twist most foul, these treasured images, but one, were ‘accidentally’ expunged from her mobile tablet. Oh, the treachery! In what dark sorcery do we find ourselves entangled, where even the visages of victuals vanish into the ether?

I, Sir Beaumont, did peruse her device post haste (for when did ink and quill retreat into the shadows of antiquity?). Lo! The evidence of my feast had dissipated as if spirited away by a capricious sprite into the land of T-boneless carnivores.

Despite the digital disappearance, I can attest, upon my honour as a Sheepadoodle, that the meat did indeed pass my lips. Sweet and succulent it was, seared by the BBQ’s fiery kiss—yet, hold thine gasps, she cooked it! Aye, ’twas not in raw splendour, but let it be known, the lady thought of my well-being… or so she claims. Between us, dear friends, I spied her slicing off a morsel for her own consumption. Aye, there’s the rub!

Could it be that she, the elusive Louise, is the sorceress behind the vanishing visages? Did she, or did she not, indulge in photo-phobic foul play?

Nonetheless, let us not dwell on past pilferings of proof, for I have indulged in the meat of the matter and emerged victorious, a true Master of the T-Bone!

Now, onto matters of more mirthful motion. Behold, my latest endeavour—Dawgland RiverDance! A spectacle of paws and grace, a dance of dips and bounds along the river’s embrace. Check out my moves; verily, I possess a rhythm most divine!

Yet, in her usual form, the not-so-brave Louise declined to join my aquatic ballet. “Cowardly,” I barked. “Wise,” she retorted. I leave the judgment in your capable hands, dear readers.

Until we meet again in tales and jest,

Yours in meaty appreciation,

Sir Beaumont of Sheepadoodle, Master of the T-Bone and Baron of the Dance