Farmer H took his diseased self outside last night to mow the front field. Good for him. Breathe that virus into the great outdoors. Let it dissipate. Why he's mowing the field himself with two strapping boy young 'uns laying about the Mansion is a good question. It's right up there with "Why do you wash dishes by hand when you have two offspring that could do it as a chore to earn allowance money or as a condition of room and board?" as queries to test the wisdom of Siri.
Farmer H did command The Pony to pick up the dog toys from the front yard. As he skipped outside with his ancient Easter basket to gather eggs, The Pony stepped off a grid and picked up a green rubber squeaky duck, a mini tire on a rope, the carcass of a blue canvas duck with orange nylon rope legs, and a piece of plastic of undetermined origin. The problem was, The Pony tossed each item over his shoulder toward the sidewalk and porch area. Where Juno promptly snagged them and wiggle-walked her way back into the yard to The Pony to play hard-to-get. Which kind of defeated the purpose of removing dog toys from the yard.
Bless his little duck-tossing heart! It only took The Pony about three tries to figure it out.
This morning, I saw all the toys back in the yard. And the grass didn't look any shorter. Perhaps Farmer H's eyes were bigger than his blade. There might be a repeat performance tonight.