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| Brynwood's Taggart |
Over the weekend, our farm neighbors brought in tractors towin' huge hoses. They started waayyy up in the southwest corner of a field that belongs to Miss Shelly and Mr. Andy, and they stretched those hoses all the way across our road, through culverts under the county road and all the way back up to a big tank in their farmyard.
It wasn't long before those hoses were puffed up and gluggin' the most odiferous potion to another big tractor. That machine had metal discs on the back that kind of plowed up the ground. Once there were trenches, they sprayed that liquid stuff into the ground. They were at it for a few hours, but it smelled "dog-heavenly" for the rest of the weekend.
Mom and Dad were like crazy people when Bella and I had to go outside. They only let us go around our yard away from the fields. Guess they really didn't want us to have any fun. Spoiled sports.
We keep tryin' to run over to the hickory tree in front just so we can scoot over the rocks, and roll in the field. They're not havin' any of it. They whistle and call us back every time. Really? I wonder just how long this is gonna go on? A guy's gotta roll, you know?
Well, better luck next time. I know they'd better stay on the ball, 'cuz Boo and I aren't gonna give up that easy. We're nothin' if not persistent. I like green feet, but I could dig brown feet, too. Sort of like changin' socks. hee hee
I'll see you again in seven. 'til then...
"Chase A Dream - Or A Squirrel".
