"Orange alert. Toad in the barn." Our tiny terrier, Mini Cooper signals by upturning brush boxes, dashing in and out of stalls and giving me that, "Why aren't you helping?" look. Sure enough, as I enter Kash's stall out hops a toad the color of red clay. Cooper rushes over, gives him a nudge. He makes a concerted effort to spring away, but this guy is fat. He's not going to win any high jump records. Cooper does the cold nose to hinny thing, again. The toad moves, maybe two inches. I finish my chores, grain delivered, water filled, horses brought in, then check on progress. Majestic Orange, as I've now named him has covered about three feet of concrete. Mini Cooper has lost interest and gone in search of lizards. She loves lizards, to chase and in taste.
The toad croaks.
I say, "If you don't get in shape, you will soon."
Lesson learned. Perhaps, I'll go to the gym today.
No comments:
Post a Comment