Only a theory involving chaos could begin to explain the goings-on at this mad house. With our access to the lower two verdant acres cut off, Molly and Doc are allowed only one hour each to graze in there and they are put out separately. This usually works fine except that the anti-trollope shot Molly had seems to have make her even trampier and she has turned our property into a pee-soaked toxic waste site. She won't let Doc out of her sight.
Two days ago the woman put Doc in the front section and took Molly down the lane on her lead rope so she could graze out of sight. She thinks this will accustom everyone to doing things on their own. She could not have been more wrong. Molly began calling Doc in her horrible gutteral voice, Doc began answering in his rather high-pitched tone and TJ bolted around the paddock making a noise like a large machine that is moving along briskly and is suddenly thrown into reverse. It's like a deafening metallic grating combined with a thousand pigs in full voice. I stayed well out of view in the run-in and said nothing. No one would have heard me anyway.
Simultaneously the dog flushed a large rabbit creature out of the undergrowth and they began circling Molly and the woman at high speed. The rabbit made loud squeaking noises and Penny kept up a steady stream of yipping. The rabbit swerved and shot under Molly, the dog in close pursuit. Fortunately Molly is so love-lorne that she failed to notice the drama being played out in her shadow. Shriek, bellow, grrrronk, yip, squeak - on it went like some demented chorus. No gentle strains of Vivaldi here, telling the tale of spring's arrival.
The woman and I exchanged glances and she said "Sheaffer, sometimes I think you're the lone voice of reason in this place". She's right, of course.