Another Hour (or Two, or Three) with George

This morning, George resumed his fence-standing, which means that there's no longer enough grass in the pasture to keep him happy.

So I took the hint and brought him out to graze. I decided that we would graze for just as long as he wanted, and then, when he was satisfied, I would work on his hoofs.

I sipped a cup of coffee while he grazed, and time passed pleasantly. He enjoyed eating the dandelions, as well as the lush grass, and also this plant:

The dogs hung out with us, and George even managed to sniff a tail before its owner realized what was happening. Lucy was busy with her bone and didn't care when George came close.

Kitten was brave too:

Last time I let George graze for as long as he wanted, he changed the subject after about an hour and went exploring. Not today.

After an hour and fifty minutes, I thought he was finally interested in something else:

but he only wanted to scratch his nose.

Good grief, my humanoid brain cannot take any more grazing. Two hours after we began, I have to go inside to the bathroom, and it is time to take George back to his field.

"No! I need three hours of grazing!"

I get George back inside his pasture and take the halter off. Whereupon he walks way. "Hmph," I think, "how heartless!" But I was mistaken - he walked off a few feet to drop some manure and came right back. It then became apparent that he really was quite satisfied with his feast after all.

Sleepy George

I leave the field, intent on my own lunch, but George says, "Where are you going?" So I come back and scratch his head for a while.

Well, maybe I can put off going inside and just run and get the trimming stuff. When I get back he's waiting for me.

When I introduce the idea of maybe picking up a foot for me, he gives me a stinky look, but I persevere politely, and pretty soon he's quietly giving me his left hoof. I get a little bit of both front feet done, but he's not very keen on holding his foot up for more than a few moments at a time.

He looks very alert when he sees the mares come cantering over from the far side of the field, but he stays with me, physically and mentally. At one point he walks off, and I think we're done, but again it's because he's headed off to the poop corner to drop some more manure, and he comes right back. Don't get much more done after that, and he starts off toward the mares. He stops, though, and looks back at me a couple of times. So I start running toward the mares, passing George, and then wait. He rejoins me.

Now it's way past my lunchtime, I really have to go to the bathroom, and it's starting to rain, so I say goodbye to George. I thought he got the message, but after a moment he turns and follows me back toward the gate. He stops half-way, realizing that I'm going off into that other world whither he cannot follow.

It's a good thing I don't have a job.