Friday, January 25, 2008

An (Unofficial) Spa Day

On seeing TJ using me as a sort of gymnastic apparatus, the woman felt I needed a respite and invited me into the barn while she did her chambermaid duties. She had just returned from the morning walk with the dog, and fearing the dog would become cold in the barn, took her to the house, leaving behind the intriguing green compost container she had been carrying.

So there I was, alone in the barn with just the wheelbarrow and the green container for company. I did some whittling on the wheelbarrow handles but the aroma wafting from the green container proved too alluring. I nudged it gently and it tipped over, losing it's lid and spilling it's contents all over the aisle. The treasures I found! Unidentified things, many of which tasted wonderful, plus some perfectly good pieces of watermelon rind and something called coffee grounds. A veritable feast. There was a gentle heat emanating from the contents and I sensed an opportunity to indulge in some aromatherapy while giving myself a spa treatment. I rolled in it, making sure to coat myself thoroughly. I was lying there, groaning slightly and feeling a sense of relaxation and well-being when the door opened.

"Deargodsheafferwhathaveyoudonenow?" she bellowed. Well, that ruined any of the health benefits right there. She squawked and flapped around and next thing I was being assaulted with damp towels. Then dry towels. Then brushes. After that I was rudely escorted outside. She's still complaining about the "ungodly" cleanup. If she'd just stretch out in the compost for awhile, she'd find her tendency to over-react would simply vanish.

Doc had a slight colic this evening and unlike myself, he doesn't hide his discomfort, he tells the whole world. The woman gave him something in a syringe and held his hoof and made clucking sounds and he stuck his head over her shoulder and carried on like a big sissy. TJ had a panic attack and even Molly got very quiet and stopped eating. I just carried on as usual and finished my dinner - no point in encouraging this sort of display. He's fine now but the woman keeps popping in and bothering the rest of us and asking Doc if he's feeling better. Such a fuss.

Back to the world of politics tomorrow.


robert5721 said...

Shaeffer, you are the ultimate politician! Making a SPA day out of garbage is wonderful! Bet those coffee grounds were warm and wonderful for you, and as you say "relaxing"....I hope so, as you will need much energy for the campaign to come! Dicey has some wheelbarrow handles that she has only whittled on a bit that she will send you, as I just put new ones on for her to artistically create artforms with. Keep it up Shaeffer, you are the bright spot in our day!
Mr Gale

Gale said...

Poor Doc! I sure hope he’s feeling okay, tummy aches are no fun at all. I’m surprised you didn’t have one after indulging in the contents of the compost container. Your woman’s reaction is perfectly acceptable given the circumstances…I’ve cleaned up after many a “barn picnic” myself, usually my own fault for leaving a gate unlatched.

In fact, just the other afternoon, I looked out the window and saw a whole herd of donkeys in the yard. Jail break! Had to scramble for leads and halters, along with a few handfuls of apple wafers, in order to entice everyone back where they belong. As you well know, one little taste of yard grass can turn the laziest donkey into a raving “you can’t catch me” wild thing, moving just fast enough to stay out of reach. Folly knew the game was up but decided to make the most of it, racing around the yard at top speed and trying diligently to get her friends to join her. I don’t know who the ringleader was that pushed the unlatched gate open, but it crossed my mind that perhaps TJ had paid a visit.

completecare said...

It is too bad your human arrived before you had a chance to have a relaxing nap in the soothing compost. Besides easing your aching joints it would have given your mind a rest from all the politial planning you have been doing. What with putting up with TJ and trying to organize your campaign you must be exhausted.

I would dearly love to roll in some savoury delights but with my over protective mother (Bert) always close at hand I never get the chance. Sheaffer you might have to put up with TJ but at least you don't have a mother watching over your shoulder at all times. It is difficult to be youngish male donkey when mom is watching. Even though I had my "surgery" at a very young age it is nice to dream.

Your fan,


ponymaid said...

Alas, I have not had access to any further compost - yet. I eagerly await Dicey's gift of slightly used wheelbarrow handles. Whittling is such an artistic and soothing pastime. We donkeys find ourselves very much drawn to it.

Ummm, Gale, could you give me the intricate details of the great escape? Not so I might employ them, you understand, but only because I'm a keen student of complex planning...

Willy, can you send your mother on an extended holiday? Enroll her in an exchange plan whereby she is replaced by a winsome young female donkey. Tell her it's a cultural exchange - mothers love that sort of drivel.