This afternoon the human female took the horse female, Molly, away in a metal box on wheels that attaches to the truck. I've been in it once and it has rubber walls and windows high up so I can't see out. Our old metal horse container had exposed wiring, which made for a much more interesting trip. I spent an enjoyable evening dismantling the entire system. while on our way to and from an evening of driving practice (I didn't drive the truck, unfortunately, I was driven in a cart). Apparantly it was a terrible thing, driving home at night without lights...seems silly, I could see just fine in there. Anyway, the next time they went to use the container, there were bits of wire and colourful plastic caps everywhere. Such a fuss over my having an enquiring mind.
I'm not sure exactly what those two females get up to when they go away- something called trail riding - but they come back hot and tired and looking quite smug. It sounds horrible, all that traipsing over hill and dale to no good purpose. I should mention that although they're of two different species, they look like peas in a pod. Both are about 13.2hh, stout of leg, broad of bottom and sporting a shocking amount of out-of-control mane. They could both do with a good old-fashioned corset in my opinion.
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6 comments:
Dear Sheaffer
As someone who has the privilege of touching (and even stroking) your impressive fuzzy antennae, I can understand the regret and disappointment you experience when offered a wilted vegetable on the platter of life.
As agent for the glittering (though recently rotund) Annie, I am authorized to offer you an invitation to live at our palatial residence just four hours away should Cruiser’s offer fail to materialize or should the woolly-headed harridan discover that her flat gold thing is missing and cancel its magic.
We live a life of restrained elegance on 32 acres of wood and pasture. Although we lack the thrill of large agricultural equipment, I can introduce you to Herb, a distinguished elderly member of the Massey Ferguson family. Herb spends most days in quiet contemplation of the wood shed and I am confident that you would enjoy joining him in that activity.
On alternate days you could join the dazzling Miss Comelately in her campaign to remove as many burdock burrs from the surrounding area as possible. She prefers to wear these in her forelock and tail but it could be arranged (given your unfortunate tail disability) to distribute burrs throughout your fuzzy coat to great effect.
Other recreational pursuits include breaking into the chicken house to knock over the chicken feed while the stupid human is stealing eggs from those poor beleaguered hens that daily have to find new places to hide their “unborn chicks” and breaking into the tack room where the stupid human has stored five boxes of “deer apples” that are by all rights Annie’s.
Give it some thought. Yours until we meet again (November 8th).
Chris
Dear Sheaffer
As someone who has the privilege of touching (and even stroking) your impressive fuzzy antennae, I can understand the regret and disappointment you experience when offered a wilted vegetable on the platter of life.
As agent for the glittering (though recently rotund) Annie, I am authorized to offer you an invitation to live at our palatial residence just four hours away should Cruiser’s offer fail to materialize or should the woolly-headed harridan discover that her flat gold thing is missing and cancel its magic.
We live a life of restrained elegance on 32 acres of wood and pasture. Although we lack the thrill of large agricultural equipment, I can introduce you to Herb, a distinguished elderly member of the Massey Ferguson family. Herb spends most days in quiet contemplation of the wood shed and I am confident that you would enjoy joining him in that activity.
On alternate days you could join the dazzling Miss Comelately in her campaign to remove as many burdock burrs from the surrounding area as possible. She prefers to wear these in her forelock and tail but it could be arranged (given your unfortunate tail disability) to distribute burrs throughout your fuzzy coat to great effect.
Other recreational pursuits include breaking into the chicken house to knock over the chicken feed while the stupid human is stealing eggs from those poor beleaguered hens that daily have to find new places to hide their “unborn chicks” and breaking into the tack room where the stupid human has stored five boxes of “deer apples” that are by all rights Annie’s.
Give it some thought. Yours until we meet again (November 8th).
Chris
Sweet! Give Sheaffer a carrot for me!
Carrots!
Carrots!
Done with the carrots. Where is the rap??
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