I've had a difficult few days this week. With the advent of spring, Molly mare's thoughts turn mushily romantic and she finds herself strangely attracted to Doc, who has no interest in her whatsoever. She bats her eyelashes at him and clacks her teeth when he so much as glances at her. The worst, however, is the pungent and abundant spray that coats everything in sight as soon as she lifts her tail. This morning I didn't move quickly enough and caught it full in the face. At least it's warm enough for the woman to give me a sponge bath on the head and neck. The woman herself was lightly sprinkled yesterday and went off to the house mumbling about the pitfalls of mare care.
Molly also managed to flood our saltblock and holder in the run-in, so that had to be removed and washed. It was considerably smaller after all the scrubbing. TJ, unsurprisingly, loves the whole smelly mare spray routine and stands behind her on purpose saying "hey, this is way cool!" Of course he won't let the woman near him, so with the heat and the layers of mare spray, he can be smelled miles away. Thank goodness they're spreading some very ripe cow manure on the fields - it's the only thing that can compete with TJ these days.
They are renting something called an auger tomorrow to make post holes in my stall so it can be divided in two, with TJ bunking in the other half. The very idea is making me anxious and alarmed - why don't they just invite Charles Manson to move in instead. Better yet, if they think the pestilent mule is so "cute", let him live in the house.
One small bonus today was that the woman was walking the paddock fence line picking up recycling items that had blown away during the winter. We sampled a pizza box that she found (too much emphasis on cheese), licked the orange juice residue off a carton and then TJ found a tin that said something about creamed corn. He turned it over and over and finally, losing patience at shaking anything out, stuck his whole muzzle in there. That boy never learns. With it wedged on quite firmly, he bolted around, muffled noises coming from inside the tin can. "help, me!", he yelled. Only it sounded like "hulllllmeeeeeeep" because he couldn't breath properly. We other three would know to immediately go to the woman and demand the removal of the offending object. Not TJ, of course. When his oxygen was nearly cut off, he came to a shaky stop and rubbed the thing off on his leg. He was quite blue under all that facial hair. I'm sorry to say that in about five minutes he was fully recovered and accosting a detergent box. Oh well, at least it was five minutes of peace.