The woman was complaining today about the lushness of our pasture, our expanding collective girth and how she would love to have a fussy eater for a change. As Doc says "same old, same old". She has been mulling over the idea of borrowing some cattle to graze it down. I sincerely hope she doesn't follow through on this new lunatic scheme - I find cattle quite alarming. They can't hold a sensible conversation and I find their demeanor dimwitted and oafish.
One summer she invited two large, pregnant racing QH ladies to live in the front paddock and though their visit only lasted one night, it left us all emotionally scarred. On seeing them the male human christened them "The Vegas Show Girls" because apparently they reminded him of six foot tall human females with plumes on their heads and four inch heels on their shoes. They suddenly appeared in an oversized metal box and the ground trembled when their enormous bulk hit the ground. They looked like Doc but about twice as tall. They stomped down the lane to the front part of the paddock, which had been sectioned off with electric wire. They gallumphed around the paddock for awhile and then spotted the barn. They sailed through the electric fence, dragging posts with them and sending insulators flying in all directions. They completely ignored the resulting shock.
Doc was delighted. He galloped toward them, muscles rippling, tail flying. His idea was to introduce himself and then inform them they were now under his care and leadership. They found this highly amusing and, peering at him from their lofty elevation, pummeled him soundly. He retreated to the corner, shocked and humiliated. The two visiting ladies were put in the barn where they looked like very large dogs in a very small dog house. They loved it and declared a strong wish to stay there till their offspring arrived. The humans reconstructed the electric fence and the two visitors were reluctantly dragged from the barn and reinserted in the front paddock. They made a bee line for the fence and casually demolished it once again. The humans gave up and decided we could all be in together.
I had been observing all this from a distance and felt it was time to introduce myself and make a short speech welcoming them. I made my way slowly and carefully across the paddock and stopped a few feet from them. I cleared my throat and was about to address them when they snorted and whirled around. They came at me like two of the three witches in Macbeth, snarling, teeth snapping and dinner-plate sized feet flying in all directions. I have never seen such a display of sheer savagery and ill manners. Show girls forsooth! More like demonically possessed harridans from hades. I drew myself up to my full height and stalked away in a marked manner. They later approached, all apologies and smarmy false flattery, but for the rest of their stay I resolutely refused to acknowledge their existence. It drove them to distraction.
When we went in our barn that evening, the large visitors were highly annoyed. Having sussed out the place, they felt they should live in there and we should fend for ourselves. The larger one even pushed up the tack room window and inserted her enormous head. She looked like a disembodied moose. They circled the barn all night, rattling the doors and trying to open the latches. It was a very long night under seige. When morning came it revealed many sections of fence that had been demolished by their large yellow teeth. All the barn windows had revolting smears on them and the door hardware had been twisted into new and interesting shapes.
Their metal box reappeared and they jumped in, nearly flattening the tires. The woman and I heaved a sigh of relief but can you believe it, Doc carried on like a love-lorne schoolboy. He said they were his dream girls and his heart was broken. I reminded him of this when Annie was visiting recently and he said "What dream girls?" . Doc loves deeply but fortunately it never lasts.