"You look funny." "Yeah? Well, you look funnier!" "Aw, your mother wears combat boots and she dresses you funny."
Driving past the corner on my way to town, I paused to watch Shadow and Cricket, both decked out in fly masks, a necessity up here and common to see on horses. The masks look very much like the face guards worn by fencing duelists. The two donkeys had been grazing together, but then the verbal abuse started. I think the "combat boots" comment was the deciding factor and the fight was on. Ears back and teeth bared, they swung their heads and battered each other. Like a chihuahua taking on a Great Dane, Shadow has no concept of his size. Camille had brought Cricket to be a buddy for Shadow, thinking as we humans do that Shadow was lonely. Shadow would prefer to be an only child. He doesn't like to play nice.
I certainly don't blame Trash Guy for wanting to beat the heat, but he comes earlier and earlier as summer approaches. I've got to get the barrel down to the big road today; I missed him last week.