My muzzle slid wider and wider as I pushed the edge of the pie in, the crust slipping up from the pan, as it was engulfed by my muzzle. The crust was flakey but not too crumbly, toasty but not overcooked, exactly the way I liked. My tongue poked in as I lapped up the cream along the top, bits of the pie breaking off to pour into my mouth, as I tasted the sweet cool chocolate cream, my throat refreshed at the mix of temperatures.