Tim Hortons doesn't serve my favourite carrot muffins in the one and only TH in my little town. The next closest is an hour away. Some mornings in the summer we can wake up to the smell of fresh baking, unless the wind is from the east. There's a bakery west and north of us, and Him Tortons south. This will also explain the weird morning behavior from Rosie the Wonder Dog whose nose is much more sensitive (and bigger) than mine.

Maybe I should propose a new donut called the Robertson, you know...with a square hole. Unless there's a law preventing it.

I bet Tim himself never thought he'd be more famous as a dead donut seller than as a hockey player.

My tummy's rumbling, Mooh.