Jack is back to his old self and says he's forgotten about "the incident" when he turned Smurf blue in the face. The woman is watching him like a hawk and is concocting all sorts of things in the blender device to get his meds into him. Jack can smell one molecule of antibiotic in four gallons of feed so it's proved a challenge for herself. When she isn't looking for a nano second he tries to slide it under the divider to my side of the stall but so far I haven't had time to so much as taste it before it's rudely snatched away and put back in with Jack.
Jack is very touched by the concern shown by his blog friends and would like to say " it's mighty kind and mos appreciated by a ole timer". It seems some of our blog friends are also enduring health issues such as getting their heads stuck in fences and their hoofs afflicted with the dreaded abcess. Good grief, it's a veritable season of plagues. The foot man caught a touch of thrush in Jack's right hind today and Jack wasn't too pleased by the odoriferous liquid that gets squirted on it. Molly's mud fever is almost gone but it seems the record breaking rain we've had is responsible for both ailments. I'm sticking to high ground.
I've included a photo of self in the unspeakable anti-grazing muzzle. The endless rain has produced a bumper crop of grass and this is their idea of a solution to what they call my ever-expanding waistline. What nonsense. They know perfectly it's my luxuriant winter coat coming in and not layers of what they term donkey cellulite. Philistines.
The potato harvest is underway now the fields are a bit drier and I will write a full report on this highlight of my summer. I might as well - there's nothing else to be done when wearing a muzzle.