|Since I forgot to have the humans bring the camera on today's picnic, |
I'll have to ask you to make do with this photo of my picnic-mate and youngest human, R.
The apples, of course, were splendid while they lasted. The sandwiches were lovely too, and I gave them both four hooves up to FarmWife's surprise. Seeing as it is like pulling teeth to get me to eat a bran mash or a wet handful of oats (too watery! Blech!), she expected the mayo and mustard to scare me off. No sirree Bob! I like a good sharp cheddar as well as the next guy.
I didn't get any punch (young R, four, told me it was because of my too-big lips) and I didn't care for the Reese's Pieces (too small!), but it was a successful picnic all the same. I got turned loose to look for grass, which was a bit of a flop due to it being February but which was, I suppose, better than a stick in the eye. I summited a small gravel heap, looked about, and came down again. I smelled, but did not taste, the pond.
Passersby who happened to glance at the salmon pond today would have been treated with a delightful scene of pastoral calm. One driver even slowed to a halt at the spectacle of a mule enjoying a picnic lunch! FarmWife told Iggy Tribble stories all the way home, which is a particular delight which I shall have to explain another day.