The Help

It is so hard to find good help these days.

Take Mother... Mother came up today not long before the sun would go down, if there had been a sun today. She was wise enough to bring hay out for myself and the rest of the Red Mare Herd as we loitered in the Small, then she set to work.

She did a satisfactory job, I suppose. She stripped and rebedded with lots of shavings, more at my sleeping end, so that's important. But she did it with the funny green machine. If it is summer or reasonably dry, Mother tends to use the wheelbarrow. But in inclement weather or if the run-in needs stripped, she uses the green machine because the muck heap is way in the back of the Grassy Pasture and she complains that is too far for her to push. In her defense, the Aunts always use the green thing...

So after she rebeds, Belle and I like to go in to inspect and make sure there are enough shavings, and, well, just enjoy the new clean-ness. And sometimes we've been patiently waiting for the maid service to finish up because we need to use the bedding, you know? The use of the green machine, however, detracts from our enjoyment.

The green machine belches noxious gases behind it. Mother hates the green thing for the same reason. She says there is nothing wrong with it, its belches are normal, she just doesn't tolerate it very well. Well, we don't either. Couldn't you just push the green machine in, Mother, the way you push the wheelbarrow?

You can clearly see the green machine in this photo, off to the side of me. She could push that!

Mother did make dinner perfectly, and I got lots of pre- and post-dinner hay, and oodles of cookies, so I guess I won't fire her just yet. And from what I hear, I may get even poorer service if I try to find another one.

Oh, well.