In case you are tired of The Pony Farewell Tour (and smart enough not to voice your opinion here, or let Val get wind of it through scuttlebutt in a blog comments game of telephone) we will now go back to our regularly-scheduled program of Nit-Picking Hick.
Hick has moved that cat bed, which was really a shoeshine box, which he declared was a shelf, over to Shackytown. I'm not sure which shack received the honor of its company. But The Pony's Knife Shack was allowed to act as background for the outdoor photo.
As you might imagine, the item posing on top of the shoeshine box is going into Hick's Fishing Lair. You might recognize it as a cane fishing pole. Though Hick sent me two emails about it, and didn't call it that in either one. In the email with the picture, he merely said, "The can pole." The other email had two other pictures, with the message, "Today's spoils along with a Cain pole in the fishing shack"
We won't go into those other spoils here today, because I need some pertinent facts about them that I can't tell from the picture. But I WILL leave you with some texts from Hick himself that just came in as I was typing up his Cain can pole story.
"Val I am at the Doctor's for my shots and I am going to try to get a shot for my poison ivy got it all over"
"If it's not one thing it's another. Be careful if they give you Benadryl. It puts you to sleep. I had it for my ampicillin reaction. You can buy it over the counter in pill form. Stops the allergic reaction and swelling."
Let the record show that I was concerned that Hick might be driving after a shot of Benadryl. Apparently Hick thought I was being mean and denying him the standard of care, or trying to be cheap with his meds.
"I know. But I am getting my other shots and a shot works quicker than a pill"
"To put you to sleep on the way home, certainly!"
"No you will be surprised what my face looks like"
"Don't make me laugh before I even see it."
"We owe Buddy 240 for the two loads of rock I will pay him tomorrow night when you give me the money"
"Wait. You said that was coming out of the rock money."
As you might imagine, I never got a response to that last one. What's the point of selling all the rocks off your land if you can't use the spoils to buy more rock to fix the roads? I guess I'll have to sweet-talk Hick while he's groggy from the Benadryl in order to get into the safe for the money I'm going to give him to pay for the rock.
There's more than one way to shoeshine a sleeping cat.