I strongly suspect the woman of having succumbed to the equine fad of "desensitizing' . Not only is it not working, it's putting a terrible strain on my inherently sensitive self. She claims it's all coincidence. I ask my readers to decide.
This morning dawned somewhat warmer, a mixed blessing, as the higher temperature caused the large snow load on the barn roof to become water-logged. The result when this occurs is that large slabs of snow suddenly break loose and thunder onto the ground. There was a particularly large slab hanging precariously over the front door and unbeknownst to me, the woman decided to prod it with a shovel . I was standing, back to the door, eating my morning hay ration and thinking deeply about all sorts of important issues. Next thing I knew, there was a thunderous roar and I was all but engulfed in a soggy avalanche. She says I was the only one who reacted at all and in fact it barely covered my ankles. I certainly did react, I snorted, did a spectacular forward jette and galloped away, giving off loud blasts from my distended nostrils. And what did she do? Laughed at me and told me to "hire a hall and take my histrionics public"!
THEN, not an hour later, Jack and I were rummaging for bits of hay in the run-in when she callously threw three empty shavings bags over the half-door. She calls them shavings bags but I know in my heart they are the devil's handiwork and are possessed of supernatural powers that can kill a donkey. One blew in front of the big door, another in front of the smaller door and the third came to rest against Jack's front leg. I was nearly hysterical. Here were two innocent donkeys in a death trap and she just carried on chambermaiding our rooms. Jack continued eating and eventually used his nose to flip the offending object off his leg. Poor old man - he doesn't know the forces of evil when he sees them. Then he casually walked out, actually stepping on one of the offending objects. Now I was alone with the murderous, crackling plastic demons. I began honking and braying at the top of my lungs. The woman appeared, summed up the situation, and unblocked the doors, chuckling to herself. Do you see what I mean? It was obviously a cunning plan on her part.
The final insult occured when we were quietly eating our warm dinner and there was a horrible swishing. dragging noise. It was obviously a creature from the nether world come to steal our souls. The others just glanced up and carried on eating, oblivious to the threat. It was the terrible wooden board with a string attached and she had two lumpy shapes piled on it. How was I to know there was food in there? I mean, it could have been anything. I can't help it if I have a finely tuned nervous system. The woman's advice to "take a pill" may be my only option of remaining sane around this loony bin.
What do you think? Were her actions premeditated or simply coincidental, as she claims? Dear readers, I think you know the answer.