Farmer H got his tractor fixed. The blue one, anyway. I'm not sure what's wrong with the green one. Nor why we need TWO tractors, especially to sit here for a year or so, not working. Anyhoo... Farmer H had a buddy make him (or find him) a part that's not really made for the tractor, but works. He saved quite a bit of money on it, so there's that.
He had The Pony outside with him a few days ago, holding stuff and moving parts and assisting with putting the tractor back together. I can feel Farmer H's pain at the very thought... The Pony himself trotted out without complaint, though he remarked later that it was dirty work that soiled his dainty hands and porcelain skin up to the elbows. At least his lungs didn't collapse from the fresh air.
When I came home from town on Saturday, there was Farmer H, perched atop his New Holland, mowing along the sides of the gravel road. Jack, Juno, and Copper Jack were romping around the tractor, barking their fool heads off in the 88-degree heat, having a grand old time.
Farmer H reminded me of Oliver Wendell Douglas (Eddie Albert) on Green Acres. You know, the one with the song that started with
"Green Acres is the place to be. Farm livin' is the life for me..."
Except Farmer H wasn't wearing a three-piece suit while bouncing on his tractor seat.
Anyhoo... the three dogs took off towards the Mansion, taking a shortcut through the BARn field as T-Hoe proceeded to the driveway. As I lined up the front wheels to pull into the garage, I saw Jack running across the back yard by himself, without his partner in crime, Copper Jack. I supposed Copper Jack had given up and gone back to Farmer H and the tractor excitement. He's been walking like his back hurts again.
Anyhoo... The Pony came out to carry in groceries. As he was reaching into T-Hoe's rear, he said,
"Jack came running across the back yard and up to the fish pond. I thought he was getting a drink, but he ran up and jumped right in the middle of it!"
"No wonder he stinks sometimes! That water is so green!"
Let the record show that the fake fish pond is about two feet wide and four feet long. Maybe three feet deep. Over Jack's head, anyway. So I guess he flopped in and paddled to the end with the pump part and climbed out. Right now the fake fish pond is full of little frogs and tadpoles. And Jack, I suppose.
Anyhoo... I saw Jack's wet footprints come in the garage door, and exit the people door. He sometimes waits for me by T-Hoe's front bumper, but not this day. He was on the side porch, standing in Juno's spot. She was nowhere to be seen. As I promised Jack a special treat in the house, he
SHOOK ALL THAT GREEN WATER INTO MY FACE AND ONTO MY TOWN SHIRT!
Ain't THAT a fine how-do-you-do?
I didn't hold it against him, though. The Pony said he saw Juno running back towards the BARn (TRAITOR!), so little Jack got the treats all to himself. It was leftover hash round potato thingies from Casey's that Farmer H had left from mid-week.
My town shirt was green, but it will still need a washing now before the next set of wearings!
5 comments:
And since you're a lady of leisure, I'm assuming you make sure you wear a freshly-laundered outfit every day. No wearing something for a two (or three... or four) days before putting it in the wash, right?
I mean, if you're not working, you should at least be working at doing the laundry on a regular basis...
Sioux,
Sweet Gummi Mary, Madam! I do not continue to wear 20-year-old clothes by washing them every day! My lairwear can go a week, unless I'm extra-sloppy at my feeding trough. Town clothes are only on for 1-3 hours, so can be hung up and rotated through a line-up unless soiled.
I avoid work like I'm being paid to do so. Oh, wait--that would be a job!
I avoid laundry duty too, mostly wearing outer clothes three or four days in a row and washing sheets when they begin to smell a bit funky.
Jack was doing you a favour by showering cool water on you in the heat.
I love animals, but you make me glad I don't have any pets. I miss having a cat, but I need to be healthy enough to take care of one and not depend on my hubby to empty the litter box. So, right now I am pet-less and probablyy, it's for the best. I can do without being sprayed with pond scum by the dog I don't have!
I am going to start calling my pjs "lairwear. It sounds much more, um, formal!
River,
No need to wash clothes so much to make them threadbare! Yes, my little Jack is a giver like that.
***
Bluebird,
Yesterday, Jack had a long licking session with my hand on the handrail as I hobbled up the porch steps. I don't like thinking of where his tongue had been...
Maybe I can start a line of LAIRWEAR to sell on the counter of my proposed handbasket factory!
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