When I was little, the old timers would always call some old dog a mut, or a biscuit eater and he weren’t good for nothing. He would just be good to eat old cold biscuits and that’s all. Well I am here to tell you that I have had a lot of biscuit eaters in the last twenty years or so, and not all of them have been dogs. I have seen raccoons and opossums eat my biscuits as well as skunks and a few roadrunners. Now they might not seem the most appropriate guest to have in camp but at times they were welcome visitors.
I remember a time on the Parker Ranch when I was cooking for spring works and we had a left over double-decker Red Velvet Cake. So to keep it safe I turned a bean bot upside down on it and put a 14 inch dutch oven lid on top to keep the night creatures out. But with me being the only one who stayed in camp, it was buffet time for the creatures of the night and they woke me about 1:15Am that morning and that is just a tad to early even for me. I have never heard such a commotion coming from under the fly of my wagon, it sounded like a Ali-Joe Frazier fight, you know the “Thriller from Manilla.” There were three coons whooping a opossum and they all had enough white icing on them it looked like they had the rabies. The cake was a disaster and they had wrecked the table and the top of the chuckbox. After I had run them all out of camp I remembered some old biscuits left over from noon and throwed them way out from the wagon to see if that would keep the natives from being quite so restless. It must have worked cause I went right off to sleep again and didn’t wake up until 4 that morning.
I got to thinking about all the folks and critters that had eaten my cooking over the years and the one feller who stood out the most was sure enough a biscuit eater. My grandson, Dylan, is a young’n who sure does like his PaPa’s biscuits cold or hot. He would eat the dough before you even got them made if he got the chance. I don’t see them grandkids as often as I would like now but I’m sure they would still eat a biscuit if they got the chance.
If you here someone say, “Oh he is just an old biscuit eating hound and he aint good for nothing,” tell them to holler at me I can sure prove them wrong. Everyone and everything has a place in life and no mater their size or shape tail or not, two-legged or four-legged, they can sure come by and get a leftover biscuit at my wagon anytime.