There is a dog. He is old, there is grey coming in around his muzzle, and he is not grumpy all the time — only when it counts. He has spent years watching grown adults stack logs like a Jenga tower and then wonder why nothing caught.
Two brothers in Massachusetts make these, in small batches, because he sighed at us one too many times. Oak shavings, wax, twenty to a bag, tested on nights when it would have been much easier to go inside. The dog supervises. He is not impressed, but he has stopped sighing, and around here that counts as a rave review.
Made in Massachusetts · two brothers · one critic