Saturday, May 17, 2008

The Chaos Theory

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.

5 comments:

billie said...

Oh my - what a day you had! I agree - you are indeed the voice of reason in a cacophony of chaotic ramblings and ragings.

I'm playing some Vivaldi for you right now!

CindyLouWho said...

Oh my, Sheaffer! Sounds like you had a very entertaining day!!! I'd like to invite you and your whole troupe to come here for a few performances! Our neighborhood is being encroached on by new development... maybe a good dose of slutty mare and panicky mule might make those city dwellers think twice about moving to the country. ;^P

robert5721 said...

Sheaffer,
while all of this craziness is going on, you should head for the tack room and the bag of peppermints, just to soothe the nerves, so it is medicinal....LOL....all are busy and no one will even notice your absence...when life gives you a lemon, just make lemonade.
Mr Gale

Ginger (Baker not Rogers) said...

Problems with communication
Dear Sheaffer:
Where to begin? It has been the best of times and the worst of times. Trouble began with the unannounced arrival of the large and lovely Anniecomelately - a gleaming bay female of the equine persuasion. She was bustled into a specially constructed verdant paddock while Fred and I goggled with misbelief at her dazzling beauty. She tossed her long black mane at us and fell to consuming the luscious grass that we are cruelly denied. After carefully removing the stock trailer from our paddock (possibly recalling the vinyl trim removal incident), the fat lady carelessly released opened the gate and she came flying into our paddock. The terror! The thrill! The terror! The thrill!

True to her Texas ancestry, Annie drove us like donkeys before the storm, up and down the paddock, penning us in corners, leaping into the air to prevent our escape and then letting us go so she could do it all over again.

Luckily, 15 minutes later, she lost interest in the hunt, giving us a breather. I took the opportunity to walk up to her and say, "hubba, hubba." I ot chased again but it was worth it.

Now, days later, we are getting along fine except for one problem: communication. For some reason, Annie does not speak donkey. When the fat lady hops on her back (very strange) they ride out of sight. Fred (the official spokesman) calls loud enough to wake the dead but she never answers. Then, when Annie is returning to the farm, she remembers we exist and starts yelling at us in some language we cannot understand. When we don't answer she gets all worried.

It would be so simple for her to just speak clearly. But, as your experience reveals, it all sounds like gibberish.

Perhaps because we were feeling a little unregarded, we took the opportunity last Friday to push open the back gate. It took some effort but we managed. We then capered across a four acre field (sampling as we cavorted) and headed east, trampling through various newly seeded corn fields, back yards and by-ways. One of the fat lady's neighbours accosted us on the side of the road and attempted to drag me home with ropes and a halter, but I demonstrated my ability to stay put. After a half hour of fruitless pushing and shoving, she gave up.

Forty minutes later, the fat lady herself appeared, looking quite ridiculous, riding Annie in a black business suit and Roper boots. Neighbour Terry (sensibly dressed in jeans and a Sierra 2500 pickup) spotted us in a backyard a quarter mile off the road where we were methodically stripping someone's vegetable garden and teasing some borderline collie in the house.

Before you could say "knife" we had halters and leads on and the fat lady tied Fred's to the saddle and we were being towed remorselessly down the stony road. Fred started limping and I tried whimpering but the three harridans were heartless. Within an hour, we had been towed a mile and were locked into our stall for the rest of the day.

Annie was mute on this whole event - not that we could understand her if she weren't. But she did give us a know-it-all look that made it plain she would drag us to Texas if required.

We tried to get revenge by sneaking into her stall and trashing her feeder but now the fat lady has locked us out of the barn as well.

As soon as we can manage it, we aer escaping again. Yuo may see us coming down your driveway any time.

Yrs in servitude, Fred n Ginger

ponymaid said...

billie, I appreciate your kind thoughts - I just wish I could sit quietly with you, eyes closed, and listen to the Four Seasons. Do that around here and I lose another patch of hair to the pariah.

cindylouwho - I will send TJ your way with the guarantee that any further development will be halted in it's tracks. He's just the sort of thing suburbanites dread having in their back yard.

Mr. Gale - I agree heartily with your plan but you-know-who keeps the door firmly locked. She's a hoarder and doesn't like to share. I'm very fond of anything peppermint and would like to try something called peppermint schnapps - apparantly quite soothing to jangled nerves. Do you know where I might get some?

Fred and Ginger, I know your woman well and she is ruthless in her interactions with equines. I'm not at all surprised at her towning you along like some canal barge. Annie the horse is no better, though I must admit her beauty is quite breathtaking. I'm not surprised to hear she was wearing a black business suit and roper boots - it was just a matter of time before she moved on from mere blankets.

Be strong and continue to pursue your dreams on the other side of the fence. The grass really is greener and anyway, it's good to keep both those meddling females on their toes.