Kickass, the doorstop dog, tried to stay out of the way as a great pickling project suddenly broke out in the keeper’s kitchen, led by Mike who brought all the material and gear to exercise one of his food passions, some of which must date back to his childhood when he absconded with his brothers’ Halloween candy.
The pickling/canning procedure is much more involved than the keeper envisioned, and as usual he stood around the edges and tried to apply some greater meaning to hot canning jars and popping lids and cucumbers and dill and all the rest.
The best he could do was to see the filled jars as containers of time, a prolonging of summer on into winter, which he is all in favor of and may be akin to his preservation of youthful ambitions. Dogs do these kinds of time machinations by burying bones. It’s simpler.