See how they lay. See how they lay.
They all surprised Thevictorian Val.
Who only saw one, our nearsighted old gal.
But was tipped off forthwith by The Pony, her pal.
To THREE dead mice.
I stepped out on the porch tonight to call The Pony and Hick away from
My sweet, sweet Juno, such a lady, would never disturb a present left for her human mom. No sirree, Bob! Despite Hick's aspersions cast her way, Juno is a good egg. Though according to Hick, she has eaten many a good egg. Daily. So this tiny deceased rodent was smack dab in front of my front door. It's not quite a horse's head in the bed, but it is a bit disconcerting. Let the record show that this is not the first dead mouse I have found at the door.
I proceeded down to the end of the porch and started tossing old bread to the chickens. I hope they like Nutty Oat. We have eleven chicks that are perhaps 1/4 grown up. They are quite cute, a variety of colors, some brave and some sticking close to their hatcher. Of course the dogs ran over from
Hick and The Pony took off their hardhats and tool belts, loosened their steel-toed boots, and made their way to the house. Not really. Hick only had his hard head, and he couldn't take that off. The Pony was in Adidas slides, no steel toes for him. One of these days OSHA is going to shut down Hick's Construction Company Inc. The Pony trotted over ahead of Hick and his Gator.
"Oh, yeah. The mice."
"It's a mouse."
"Wait! I see the other one under the window!"
"Actually, there are three. There's one down by Genius's room."
"OH! Get me some pictures!"
These are the mice. I'll keep the photos small this time. No need to show a lack of respect for death. Because I could not photograph death, The Pony kindly photographed it for me.
Yes, I could have done without this rodent trifecta today. Thank goodness my men cleared the porch of them...
Who are we kidding? Those mice are still out there on the porch. It would NEVER occur to Hick or The Pony to move them. They just step over them. Or take pictures if I command. Kick them off the porch? Get the broom? Scoop them up with a blue plastic snow shovel that was last used to whack the aggressive banty rooster flying through the air with his talons aimed at Hick's stomach? Nope. They just step over such obstacles until told (more than once) to get rid of them.
Excuse me. I've got some orders to give.
These are the mice
who scared our Val
who called to The Pony
who loves the swords
that will hang in the Folly that Hick built.