Dirt in the wrong hands

Her canister was a little wibbly-wobbly, if only there was a way to make it turn so she could maintain a consistent thickness as it went… but that would have to be a consideration for another day. She took her paw and smooshed down on another piece of clay, using her dexterous paws to make it fit with the top of her jar, and then sat it off to the side.

Otis inspected her work, and with his nod of approval, she took her little container to show her mother. I hope it doesn’t ‘splode.” she said as she placed it carefully out in the sun to dry, but only time would tell.

“Speech”