Little Man Frank

Meet Little Man. 
Our neighbor Chet mentioned that he had an old lawn jockey, but that he was landfill-bound (the statue, not Chet).
Did I want him? 
Heck, yea, I wanted him!
The statue is not an antique, and he’s made of concrete not cast iron, but was worth salvaging. Little Man originally stood hand-on-hip, at a nearby horse farm. Then Chet took him on. And now he’s ours. In his early years he clasped a lantern but we plan to fashion a hitching-post ring to fit his fist. He can serve as a Bugsy pitstop. 
But first I’ve got to sand him, patch his cracked legs and paint him. Just what I need: a new project. An excuse to skip mowing.
I’ve dubbed the lawn jock “Little Man” but Cayden calls him “Frank.” We’ve got a history of naming inanimate objects around here, so guaranteed he’ll be called something. He kind of looks like a Frank to me. 
Stay tuned for the after photos this summer. For now Little Man Frank is busy startling unsuspecting visitors who wander in the barn.