Marigold Monday

I remember that on my grandparents farm there was this one dog who ate marigolds.

But real sneaky like.

I mean, dog sneaky, which is not very covert at all.

Dogs just think they are sneaky.

Dogs are in no way subtle or sneaky.

He (name withheld to protect his identity) was one of those dogs that just show up on farms.

That seems to happen on farms, dogs just show up and stay.

The dogs that show up seem to be trained by the world, before settling on a farm.

They know what to bark at and what to leave alone, they know when to follow machinery and when to sit on the porch.

Marigolds must exist outside of their training program, however.

This dog, I am chatting you up about, would casually just take a seat near the flower bed.

As we all panted through the humid summer evening...

Everybody just staring at the horizon, waiting for the heat shimmer to go away.

And outta nowhere...

Chomp.

Once folks resumed that hundred mile stare...

Chomp.

And there would be a few less marigolds in the flower bed.

If I remember correctly, that dog hung out for at least a few years.

Though the marigolds never quite made a recovery in my grandmothers flowerbed.