Sunday, May 25, 2008

A Damp, Dark Day

Owing to discrimination against the portly, I am still confined, along with my tormentor, to the paddock with virtually no grazing. Complete waste of time - I haven't lost an ounce, unless you count all the patches of hair TJ has yanked out. Just a typical day of boredom punctuated by bouts of sheer terror.

I was pleased and intrugued to see the humans wheeling a bright blue machine with various cords and hoses and brushes out to our barn. The male human proceeded to demonstrate it's talents, which consist mainly of shooting water at great force thereby blasting dirt off anything it's aimed at. Sometimes it expels soapy water, sometimes clear. He foolishly left the woman alone with the thing and I settled in for the show. She pushed various buttons and the thing made gurgling noises and next thing I knew, she'd blasted the light bulbs and removed the paint from the ceiling. At the end of fifteen minutes the barn looked like a tidal wave had roared through and the woman looked like a nearly-drowned rat. Highly satisfactory from my side of the door.

The carefree mood vanished when I headed for my stall this evening and discovered a gate and TJ living on the other side. He immediately stuck his head through and said "hey, fossil, i lik yor side much mor better." Then he sneezed in my face and bumped his head on my water bucket, spilling half the contents. The nightmare begins and all the humans can do is inexplicably call us Oscar and Felix. Nothing makes sense anymore.

8 comments:

billie said...

Oh, Sheaffer. I am sorry for the trauma of sharing space with TJ, not to mention the discriminatory grazing practices.

It's too much all at once!

I was thinking this morning that perhaps you could use self-hypnosis to escape the terrors of TJ. Better yet, learn to hypnotize TJ and direct his evil energy to good ends!

Rafer Johnson gives me donkey hugs and positions his eye with mine, and I have a feeling he is trying out his hypnotic skills on me. Those donkey eyes are very potent!

Ginger (Baker not Rogers) said...

Sheaffer - I highly recommend you read a delightful series of books based in Botswana entitled the Ladies No 1 Detective Agency. The books chronicle the adventures of Mma Patience Ramotswe, who extols the virtues of being "traditionally built." The author, Alexander McCall Smith, was a Professor of Medical Law at the University of Edinburgh so I am sure he will meet with your discriminating standards.

Perhaps you will find solace in knowing that there is one place - Botswana - where being traditionally built is not only acceptable but virtuous! I suggest that you inform the woman that you require a bookshelf for your collection, a deep bed of fragrant straw for reading while reclined, a fresh pot of red bush tea hourly and a screen to block out any view of the odious mule.

robert5721 said...

Sheaffer, OH MY GOD !! just do what the donkeys here do, which is stand with your substantial rear end pointed at the offending mule until he goes away....that is a not so nice way of saying "I am IGNORING YOU", they do this occasionally after getting Vet needles or whatever. It also enhances the delivery of any gasseous material that you can come up with. I am glad that the offense is overlooked in a while due to peppermints being applied, but it WORKS, believe me!! LOL.
Mr Gale

ponymaid said...

billie, it is beyond intolerable, it's torture on all levels. I would love to hypnotize TJ but merely glanching into those beady eyes makes me shudder. Now MY eyes on the other hand, are dark, limpid pools and if I can entice the woman to focus intently on them, I can influence her behaviour strongly - I repeat the mantra "feed me carrots" over and over and she walks, zombie-like, into the tack room and returns with the aforementioned delicacies. Rafer is simply training you using traditional methods.

Ginger, the woman actually has those books but won't let me near them. Now I see why. They promote the benefits of a full figure. I would make an excellent detective given my superior observational and lurking skills.

Oh Mr. Gale, I have tried turning the other cheek, and then the other, and now I have a hairless posterior. And, TJ has honed his survival skills under Doc's tail, where the explosions are more toxic than mustard gas. There is nothing I can waft at him that even makes him blink. He's quite invincible. I wish you could send Dicey here for the summer...

robert5721 said...

Sheaffer, Dicey was on her way north on 522 toward Canada, but had to turn around and come back here at treat time....she just can not miss the cookies she has gotten so used to daily, many times a day. Guess she has ME trained, huh? Maybe she will make it there someday with me on her back....THAT would be way cool !!
Mr Gale

Gale said...

I bet your quarters are sparkling clean! Be careful what you say about the power washing machine, Sheaffer, or you might find yourself in its path, left with no hair whatsoever!

I can only imagine your mood now that the shared living space has become a reality. Actually, you have only one-quarter of your previous space as I am certain you are confining yourself to the half that's farthest away from "himself." Can you manage a mighty snort into TJ's waterbucket when he's not looking?

robert5721 said...

Sheaffer, YOUR picture looks MUCH better than the beady eyed beastorama
Mr Gale

ponymaid said...

Mr. Gale, the sight of you hoving into view on the durable Dicey would make my donkey heart sing. I do, however, fully understand her total commitment to snacks. And I thank you for your comment on our photos - TJ looks like a dangerous, gimlet-eyed lunatic.

Gale, how did you know?? I confine myself to the far wall, barely out of reach of TJ's newly minted teeth. I took your suggestion and regurgitated some hay into TJ's bucket, but he actually seemed to like it..."ummmm",he said, "i lik my watter chewy." Idiot.