I was gleefully lying in my bed this morning, relishing the last few minutes of peace and quiet, when I was jolted awake by my sweet hubby saying, “Rhett, the heifers are out.” (Note he didn’t say, “Bon, the heifers are out,” because as I mentioned, I was still in bed. But the call was urgent, and I was glad Rhett was up and at ‘em like a good boy.)
Meanwhile, I was lying in bed thinking, “Well crap.”
I contemplated for a good five seconds whether I should pretend I didn’t hear the call for help. I mean, I could easily pull the covers over my head and ignore the whole thing. But ultimately, I decided it was in my best interest to hop out of bed and go help. I didn’t want to deal with the “Wrath of Will” after all. I may not be smart, but I’m not crazy.
Sure enough, the sweet little heifers had knocked the gate down and were grazing in my yard.
Well, it wouldn’t break my heart if those heifers wanted to come over once in a while and mow for me. We’d have to find a designated bathroom area, but I think we could work something out. I was just warming to the idea of grazing my yard when…
I caught this young punk perusing my garden and decided maybe we should just put those heifers right back in the pasture where they belonged. Crazy kids. Always looking for an adventure.
Well, I am happy to report that we had no trouble getting the heifers back in.
And as I was walking back to the house, I thought, you know, I should wake up early every morning and go for a jog or something. It’s just so glorious and the air is so crisp and clean. Then I laughed. Cause I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I hope everyone has a great weekend!