The dog did it.

And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.  (John 8:32 NLT)

When I was about five years old, give or take a year, my parents planted a wind break just to the west of our house, one row of Russian Olive trees or bushes (I think that was the name) and two rows of pine trees.  There is a picture somewhere of me standing out there (in my classy late 70's or early 80's attire) watching dad dig a hole for a tree. We watered those trees and trimmed around them and took special care of those trees because we wanted them to grow up good and strong.  They were my dad's pride and joy.

I am guessing when I was about eight, my parents decided to let me try out the lawnmower.  I had begged and begged to learn how to mow.  I had learned how to drive the three-wheeler, and surely if I could drive a three-wheeler, I could drive a four-wheeled lawnmower.  I think it was a Cub Cadet, maybe that was later, I can't remember.  I know it wasn't a Snapper.  My grandparents loved those Snappers and those things cracked me up.  They were so goofy looking.  Anyway...

I don't recall how many times I had actually mowed the yard before the little incident with the tree and the mower occurred.  Oh, I should say we had a lab at the time.  I'm not sure if that was Ozzie, our yellow lab, or if it was the one right before that, Nellie, maybe.   Oh well, it's hard to remember so many pets, you know.  Getting back to my story, I was zipping along with the big mighty mower mowing the grass around the growing, but somewhat powerless wind break, when I accidentally, of course, ran over a poor defenseless little pine tree.  Zip, zip, and it was gone.  When I say little, I mean little as in comparison to a full-size tree.  These had been growing probably at least three years so they were a couple feet tall.  I plowed that thing over, chewed it up and spit it out. 

Oh, crap I thought...I'm dead.  My dad is gonna kill me. I'll never be able to mow again.  I remember thinking I've got to come up with some story, a logical one, something he'll believe, you know, because I love to mow and he finally had trusted me to mow.  So I thought it over and mustered up the courage to tell dad the one and only explanation I could think of...The dog did it.

If you've had a Labrador, you know that a Lab can destroy just about anything...even if it seems unbelievable... well, I guess, maybe not slicing a pine tree.  Trying to convince my father that the dog had laid on the tree, and as a result, had cut, with razor-like perfection, the stem off at the base didn't work.  And of course, I crumbled like a stale cookie but, thankfully, he got over it and let me mow again...many times.

I tried this little story one other time, about 12 months ago.  I love to mow.  I find it peaceful and relaxing.  We planted a wind break several years ago and have continued to plant and replant trees thanks to the animals that graze our pasture...I mean, yard.  I got on our tractor one day last summer and was cruising right along when it happened AGAIN...somehow that little bush-hog just crept over a little too far and, whack, took down a tree.  I didn't say a word until Jay noticed and inquired...and only then did I confess, hey, don't blame me, I guess the dog did it...