A semi-shade-tree mechanic owned a dog named Mace. Mace was a basset, and a pretty good dog, although he had one major flaw, at least as far as the mechanic’s wife was concerned. Mace ate grass. Lots and lots of grass, to the point they had to reseed the yards at least twice. Enough was enough, and she ordered Mace to stay inside unless one of the kids walked him on a leash.
Now, the mechanic did most of his work in the back yard, near his shed. He didn’t bother with a lawn mower. The grass did pretty well over winter, and then really took off the next summer. But he had a lot of work, as did his wife, and the grass started to look more like a prize pasture.
One afternoon, as the mechanic was workin’ on a classic pick-up, he dropped a wrench. Now, this wouldn’t normally be a problem, except 1), this was a custom tool he’d had made because there was no other way to reach That Bolt unless he took the engine off the mounts, and 2) the grass was so high he couldn’t find the tool. He hunted for quite a while, then tossed his red rag into the toolbox and called it quits. And it was time to get cleaned up for the kids’ thing at school that night, anyway. The wrench wasn’t going anywhere.
Well, the pageant went well, no one muffed their lines or fell off stage, and the mechanic’s family came home happy. Alas, in the rush to get the little ones to bed, Mace slipped out the back door. You can imagine the delight the basset experienced as he found grass as tall as the top of his head.
Come the next morning, the mechanic looked out the back window and saw a very fat and sluggish dog, and a large swath of now clipped yard. Including the patch around where he worked. The mechanic went out to grab the dog before his wife woke up and pitched a fit. As he grabbed Mace’s collar, he saw a glint of sunlight on metal and lo and behold, there was his wrench!
With a cry of joy he turned his face to the heavens and proclaimed…
“Oh grazing Mace, how sweet the hound that found my wrench for me!”
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