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Yesterday, I mowed the lawn. I felt really guilty, too. See, we have a big bunny living in our vicinity. I call him Mr. Bun-bun, just because I can. Anyway, the Samurai excitedly called me to the window as I was preparing to commence mowing. Mr. Bun-bun was busily munching the numerous dandelions which festoon our "lawn" like suburban yard acne. It was quite comical, watching him pick one, then crunch busily from stem to blossom, with the yellow bit briefly adorning his little face before it vanished into his plump cheeks. Our own little weed shredder! How cute! He hopped off behind the Dismal Decrepit Shed when I went outside, looking over his fuzzy shoulder reproachfully. Mowing led to a perverse sense of pride in the velvety green sward I created. Sure, it's mostly weeds, and it's nowhere near as nice as the Perfecto-Lawn down the street, but it's ours. I rant about how lawns are a waste of resources, and babble about digging ours up and sowing a wildflower meadow, but I still harbor a secret yearning for a smooth, cool, green carpet of toe-wiggling fun. Besides, Casey won't poop on anything longer than two inches, and a backed-up Wonder Borkita is not a good thing to keep in one's Hoose. I've been having a recurring dream lately, about getting Casey a companion. In my dream, my pal Dallas, the doggie rescue guy, brings me four precious black-and-white pups. We let them out on the lawn to play, and I notice that they all have six legs. They are hilarious scurrying around with all those legs tangling together. (I have awakened myself from this dream with my own giggling.) I ask Dallas what kind of doggies they are, and he tells me they are border collie-ant crosses. I have to avoid giving them sugar, and clean up their trails regularly, so the formic acid won't stain the carpet. Mind you, Dallas is the man who keeps trying to get me to adopt dogs like the border collie-St. Bernard mix he had last fall. Ant-collies wouldn't surprise me much. Probably be good agility dogs. |
 
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Lawn Musings