We're bush-hogging some of the pastures. Yesterday, the Pond Pasture got bush-hogged.This morning Mr. Big Food joined me in taking the dogs to the Pond Pasture so we could assess the outcome of the bush-hogging.
I'd forgotten all about the covered big plastic thing of I know not what out in the pasture that was obliterated by the 14' bat wing bushhog. Until the dogs found its remains.
It's never a good thing to see the dogs rolling around belly up in the pasture. And it's most decidedly not a good thing when one remembers the covered plastic thing of I know not what was in the vicinity of where the dogs are rolling around belly up.
Good Lord! You stink!
But the danged thing was, they looked so happy! And then so sad as we were hosing them down and scrubbing the stink off of them.
Here's the problem. There's no rain forecast. The stinky pile of I know not what will remain there until it rains. True. It's the first of the month and they are due for their dose of flea and tick repellent, so we wouldn't be swimming in the pond for two days anyway.
But what am I supposed to do with them meanwhile?
Missy's easy. She's a retriever. Sure. She gets distracted and follows her nose to who knows where. But at the end of the outing, she looks up, doesn't see me or Daughter C or Miss M and comes looking for us.
Rocky, on the other hand, is a terrier. He gets distracted, too, by the enormity of how much space he has yet to mark. One unmarked blade of grass leads to another and another... .
And before you know it, the lady at the make-shift Courthouse asked me if we found the dog we were looking for two years ago. (It's a small community.)
I do not want Rocky to go missing.
Dang. I'm going to have to take Rocky on a regulation walk. Or two.