Mother is upset with me because I am such a good forager. She claims it is all the burrs that are driving her nuts, but it's not my fault that I have to look under certain plants to find sustenance.
The aunts went on a herbicidal mission earlier this spring, and large areas that were burdock infested were eradicated. They also have a brush cutter. All their good faith attempts are for naught.
I still come in every day with burrs. I have stick-tights all down my legs. Mother tried braiding up my mane... now all my braids clump together. Most every evening she grumblingly removes all the hitchhikers, slathers more Cowboy Magic on so the next batch will also slide off the hair fairly easily, and tells me to stay out of the burrs or she'll cut all my hair off.
Henhenhen, I remember when Devlin and I lived here that first winter, he found a patch of burdock that had been cut down and was going to be burned. He rolled in the patch (wonderful for all that itches) and Mother was VERY unhappy at pulling dozens, maybe hundreds of burrs from his long winter coat.
See Mother, it could be worse.
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