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| caution - attack bear on duty! |
Another GF experiment that worked pretty well if you
like crispy cookies—which I do. I split the batter to include chocolate chips
in half of the batch, because I really like crispy cookies with
chocolate. The only mistake I made here was to let the tiny panda pose for the
picture with them.
Now he thinks they’re his.
Contrary to our policy of No More Bears, this little
guy snuck under the wire because he’s so little that I doubted he could
possibly create any more havoc than the rest of the gang causes on a daily
basis. He’s a Telus panda—the holiday promo the company used to encourage
contributions to the World Wildlife Fund last Christmas. Ter is a panda nut,
the cause was a good one, and I needed a final stuffer for her sock. So I went
to the Telus shop on a lunch break, waited in line while everyone in front of
me finished buying the latest communications technology, got to the counter,
looked the service rep in the eye and said, “I’ve come for a panda.”
“You’re in luck,” he said. “There’s one left.”
“Sold,” I said.
No need for a bag. This little guy cuddled in the
crook of my arm along the street, across the intersection, through the
courtyard, past the security desk (where he was offered a chocolate by one of
the commissionaires) and up the elevator to my office. He spent the next three
days there, playing with my office critters and charming the heck out of
everyone who came to visit, and on Christmas morning, he and Ter bonded
immediately.
He has since resided in the kitchen, where he makes a
point of claiming everything we set on the table as his own. Well, almost
everything. Being a vegetarian, he turns his nose up at meat. He likes to play
with veggies (especially green veggies), plastic clamshells full of berries,
butter tarts or salsa … and plates of fresh-baked cookies. I know, I know. He’s
so little that surely I could overpower him with my size, but anyone who’s been
attacked by a purse dog knows that ankle biters are the fiercest of tiny
creatures, so it’s easier to let him think he’s won until he falls asleep. Ter
puts him to bed, I bag up the cookies, and in the morning he’s forgotten all
about them.
Still, in honour of our miniscule despot, the PB in
the title stands not for “Peanut Butter” but for “Panda Bear” Cookies.
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