Once again, Bridget was first at the gate but hesitated too long.
|I think George might be coming. He'll be mad.|
If I'm at the other end of a leadrope, George will stay out on the lawn indefinitely, but as I was busy mowing and he was on his own, he got lonely after about 40 minutes and wanted to go home. I asked Rose if she would like to come out, but she said, "Nope, don't want to, too scary." Bridget clearly wanted a turn, so I put the halter and leadrope on her, and sternly instructed George not to interfere with our egress. Amazingly, I convinced him, and I let Bridget out. She too took a few minutes to explore.
I kept an eye on what she was eating. I know from my youthful days reading pony books that lawn cuttings are Not To Be Fed to Horses.
|That mower was fixed just in the nick of time.|