The Furry one (my dog Sophie) says we should go for our morning walk. I, being in the throes of a monstrous head cold, do not feel up to it. The Furry one doesn’t care. And so we go. It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is shining, there is a light breeze and the temperature is 66 degrees F. If I didn’t feel like I was wearing a tight motorcycle helmet with a brick on my face I could probably enjoy it. As we walk along our county road, she in her gorgeous fur coat and I in my blaze orange vest (to avoid being run over by texting drivers) and my sinuses packed solid, I notice virtually nothing. But wait, here is something I do notice. The county has cut some of the ditch grass. What has been revealed by the cutting of the grass, you ask? A pair of half rotted carp that someone graciously left along the road. Nice. Of course the Furry one thinks it’s her Birthday present and can’t understand why I would muster the strength in my muted condition to drag her away from such a wonderful smell. Have you ever seen the TV commercial for the bacon flavored strips for dogs? The dog yells out “BACON” because he is so excited for the flavor. That’s what the Furry one does this morning except it’s “CARP!!! OH I LOVE CARP SO MUCH OH OH OH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!” So I’d like to say thank you to the very considerate person who left the dead fish by the side of the road. How thoughtful of you.
I’m hoping I feel better by the afternoon because the grass looks like it needs mowing again. I have about 2 and 1/2 acres to mow and this stuff is super grass. I don’t know what kind it is or who planted it but it grows like crazy. Now don’t get me wrong, I like to mow the grass. I like being outside. But my yard is all lumps and hills and there is no suspension on the rider mower. I have lots of trees and bushes and buildings and other things to mow around. It takes about a 1/2 hour with the push mower and 2 and 1/2 hours with the rider. The Furry one hates the mower and will run frantically whenever it comes near. It is the monster nightmares are made of. She acts so tough with rough play, barking and growling but start up the mower and she becomes a whining frightened puppy. It’s her Kriptonite.
And so, on it goes. Even though my head feels like it’s being squished in a vise, I still have to mow the grass and take the Furry one for a walk. At least she enjoyed it. She’ll have dreams about the rotted carp smell. She would have rolled all over in it if I had let her, and then I’d be having dreams about it. Oh, I almost forgot. Garbage and recycling goes out tomorrow before work. Yay!