Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Stabbed in Our Own House

We knew something was up when the woman lured us into our rooms at 11am with false words and carrots. Once under house arrest we had our halters put on. That means one of two things; either the foot man is coming or Dr. Maggie is showing up with her needle collection. It was the latter.

Because of my severe needle phobia, they decided I should go first so I woudn't have time to brood. Dr. Maggie was very crafty and plied me with bits of Stud Muffin, which I'm afraid has the effect of blotting out any short term thoughts I may have. I was somewhat alarmed to feel the first stab and backed away hastily, winding us both around the two new posts in my stall. Her assistant rushed over a new batch of Stud Muffins and by consuming them non-stop, I was able to soldier my way through the ordeal. Then she grabbed my tongue and did a very thorough and quite personal search of my mouth and teeth. I don't know what she was searching for but she gave up and moved on to Doc.

He doesn't mind the mouth search at all and when she finished in his mouth he gave a hearty cough, laced with bits of muffin, managing to spread it liberally on their persons. He was very brave about his needles and just made his nose very pointy to show that he doesn't really care for the yearly stabbing.

Dr. Maggie stuck her hand in Molly's mouth next and extracted the longest, most muscular tongue this side of a Water Buffalo. Molly must do weight lifting with it to get it in that sort of shape. Molly had something called points on her back teeth so she was taken into the run-in and strung up from the rafters to have them "floated". She had been given a drug of some sort and was very relaxed and rather rubbery of leg. There she hung, with a large motorized device buzzing around in her mouth, sanding down the points. They must have been sharp because when the woman put her hand in to feel she said "Ouch". Meanwhile TJ could see all this from his stall and had a prolonged panic attack. He remembers Dr. Maggie as the fiend who came awhile ago and pulled out one of his baby caps. As he said "it's her agin ! she's mental an she jus wants to tak all our teeth an sell em!" He has a very Dickensian imagination.

Molly looked like the last customer at closing time and had to be helped back to her stall to sleep it off. Then Dr. Maggie decided she should try to make friends with TJ and reassure him that she is not a serial mule torturer. He would have none of it and refused to take a treat from her hand, spinning and jumping whenever she got close. I could have told her that once he has made up his mind, you can move heaven and earth and nothing will change it. I know this because I explained the electric fence to him in detail and he still says it's powered by evil forces that live in the wires and pinch you on the nose when you touch it. I'm sure he'd be an excellent recruit for the Flat Earth Society.

We were so releived that it was all over that when the woman released us we stampeded down the paddock like the hounds of hell were on our heels - actually TJ pretends it a herd of vets.

Monday, April 28, 2008


The dreaded division of my living quarters has begun. Saturday the male human and his friend went off with the truck and came back with a strange machine in the back. It looked like a very large lawn mower with four appendages sticking out at each corner. It has a long, twisted metal bit that sticks into the ground. It glugs back a drink of gasoline and suddenly springs into action, roaring and flinging dirt around like TJ on a digging mission. We watched them make some holes around the yard and then they took it into my stall. I now have two posts in the exact middle and I know that the worst is yet to come.

I discovered these posts when I trudged in after the other three. TJ had already been in my stall to see the changes and wove in and out and around the posts and then shot out into the aisle. "Hey, I'm gonna have a lotsa fun in ther", he said. I can hardly wait. I lose half my living quarters and have the lunatic mule as a next door neighbour. Iwas so taken aback by the sudden post appearance that I froze in the stall doorway, ignored my dinner and was still in the same position when the woman came back later in the evening. The full horror of it all washed over me in waves. Mule-zilla is coming to live on my doorstep. This does not auger well (sorry, but that was irresistable).

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Arrivals and Departures

Today we saw one of the female animals that resembles an equine but is actually called a deer. She came bounding out of the island of cedars in the middle of our valley, paused to examine us, and bounded off with her white tail held high. These deer creatures know us equines very well but are deathly afraid of the humans and dog.

One summer there was an infant deer who became fascinated with us. He jumped into our paddock and came quite close until his distraught mother called him back very firmly. After that they came every evening and he would jump in with us and frolic around and even pretend to eat grass next to us. Fortunately we had no TJ at the time or the mother deer would have had her worst fears realized. I have hopes that amongst this years crop there will be at least one who wants to explore the other side of the fence. Though we'll have to keep a close watch on TJ - when I told him about this he said "oh yeah, them deer things better watch it cos this is MY turf". Always the mule philanthropist.

Sadly, my good friend Granny from across the road passed away last week. I noticed on Tuesday afternoon that all the tractors went home early from the farm fields in our area and couldn't imagine why. She lived her whole life in our small town and was buried from the little old church on Alice St. I am extremely annoyed that I was told after the fact. I know she would have wanted me to be there. I'm very well-behaved and would not have snacked on any of the flower arrangements. I was so looking forward to our reunion at the "Home". I will never look at another curtain rustling without thinking of Granny.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Caught In The Overspray

I've had a difficult few days this week. With the advent of spring, Molly mare's thoughts turn mushily romantic and she finds herself strangely attracted to Doc, who has no interest in her whatsoever. She bats her eyelashes at him and clacks her teeth when he so much as glances at her. The worst, however, is the pungent and abundant spray that coats everything in sight as soon as she lifts her tail. This morning I didn't move quickly enough and caught it full in the face. At least it's warm enough for the woman to give me a sponge bath on the head and neck. The woman herself was lightly sprinkled yesterday and went off to the house mumbling about the pitfalls of mare care.

Molly also managed to flood our saltblock and holder in the run-in, so that had to be removed and washed. It was considerably smaller after all the scrubbing. TJ, unsurprisingly, loves the whole smelly mare spray routine and stands behind her on purpose saying "hey, this is way cool!" Of course he won't let the woman near him, so with the heat and the layers of mare spray, he can be smelled miles away. Thank goodness they're spreading some very ripe cow manure on the fields - it's the only thing that can compete with TJ these days.

They are renting something called an auger tomorrow to make post holes in my stall so it can be divided in two, with TJ bunking in the other half. The very idea is making me anxious and alarmed - why don't they just invite Charles Manson to move in instead. Better yet, if they think the pestilent mule is so "cute", let him live in the house.

One small bonus today was that the woman was walking the paddock fence line picking up recycling items that had blown away during the winter. We sampled a pizza box that she found (too much emphasis on cheese), licked the orange juice residue off a carton and then TJ found a tin that said something about creamed corn. He turned it over and over and finally, losing patience at shaking anything out, stuck his whole muzzle in there. That boy never learns. With it wedged on quite firmly, he bolted around, muffled noises coming from inside the tin can. "help, me!", he yelled. Only it sounded like "hulllllmeeeeeeep" because he couldn't breath properly. We other three would know to immediately go to the woman and demand the removal of the offending object. Not TJ, of course. When his oxygen was nearly cut off, he came to a shaky stop and rubbed the thing off on his leg. He was quite blue under all that facial hair. I'm sorry to say that in about five minutes he was fully recovered and accosting a detergent box. Oh well, at least it was five minutes of peace.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

I Enter The World of Commerce

I see myself as very much an observer, philosopher and connoiseur of the finer things in life. Imagine my surprise today when the woman announced I was opening my own e-store featuring a line of apparel. called SheafferWear. I was stunned, to say the least. I have always given the world of commerce a wide berth.

It seems the woman has had another of her brainstorms about helping needy donkeys and has decided that using my portrait, with one of my better-known sayings underneath is a grand idea. I think I might have been consulted first. I mean, how would she like it if her face suddenly appeared on say, a bag of dog kibble or new underarm deodorant. I plan to maintain strict control over all phases of marketing. My first idea is that all the needy donkeys should wear one of the said tee shirts. Something more formal like a blazer and ascot would have been my choice, but there's nothing I can do now. I'm a mere pawn in her eternal scheming - she wrote prawn but I made her change it.

Oh well, all I can do is wait and see what happens. Who knows, maybe my tee shirts will be seen on all the famous runways, modeled of course by the sensibly full-figured. The male human suggested we identify ourselves as "Team Sheaffer" but that has the aura of the noise and smells of the pits behind a racetrack. I prefer to be associated with the library of a private gentlemens' club (where tee shirts are not allowed).

My e-store can be seen by clicking the link at the top right hand corner of the blog. I am researching a fellow called Ralph Lauren to see how he handles his fashion empire.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Large Green Machines

This morning before dawn we were wakened by the distant sound of tractors growling their way through our fields. They are enormous green behemoths that pull plows as wide as our barn and create a cloud of dust that can probably be seen by most of my readers. I never tire of the methodical way they turn over the earth into perfect black waves.

This is all new to TJ who has only ever lived with beef cows (which is how he ended up in a pen of steers bound for slaughter, but that's a story for another day). He trotted officiously out of the barn to chase down the source of the growling and froze in his tracks. "Hey, big green metal things is tearin up the dirt!" he said. It's useless trying to explain farm equipment to someone with the attention span of a gnat so I just left him standing at the fence, trying to figure out how he will chase these new interlopers off his turf.

I overheard the male human talking to the potato farmer recently and he said "Yep, she gits the job done - next size up is articulated but we'll stick with these for now." So! Tractors are female and the larger ones are able to articulate - I must try asking their opinions on various things. If I befriend one they might "accidentally" plant a mini-mule with the seed potatoes.

The grass is getting as green as the tractors and the black flies surround each of us in a dense cloud. There are no surer signs of spring, unless it's the layer of Molly sheddings that coats every surface and leaves all of us with a slight cough as we try to expel stray hairs.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

The Alien In Our Midst

All I can say about this weather is that it's so good that we will eventually be punished by the weather gods - probably with hail and locusts. Mind you, the blackfiles are out and I was buzzed by a mosquito while we were walking in the woods today. That was as we were passing one of the last remaining patches of snow. In this country the seasons trample each other underfoot in their hurry to get started. Spring doesn't unfold gently, it grabs you by the throat and leaves you breathless with the shock of warm temperatures.

Doc's present from Ohio was a fly mask with bubble-like eye covers and today the woman put it on him. Doc is an unusually itchy horse and spends much of the summer rubbing on trees and trying to scratch his eyes on fences. He went in the barn to be groomed and when he came out, he was sporting his new gift. TJ rushed forward to meet him and then spun and ran when he saw the "new" Doc with green plaid eye pods. Doc of course was oblivious and just carried on but TJ snorted and ran around him in circles, sneaking up behind and deciding that he looked normal from that angle and then catching a glimpse of his head and coming completely unglued. All in all, it made for a delightful diversion on a fine day.

Our trailer came home from storage which means the woman and Molly will start going off on their adventures and coming back tired and smug. Damn their eyes - by all rights it's MY trailer.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Sprung Upon by Spring

This was the epitomy of a perfect spring day. The grass is up enough for us to snack on and the temperature was just right. Though I do enjoy those days referred to as "scorchers".

I took the woman for a constitutional around the property this morning . My goal is to give her an airing out more often this summer and this seemed an ideal day to start. We took the route through the forest, where the stream has a very long green bridge over it. It's much longer than the one that bucked the woman off. Since that incident I've become very wary of green bridges so I stood at one side and examined it for a long time. Finally, I gathered all my strength and made an enormous bound over the entire stream. thereby avoiding the bridge altogether. The woman was quite amazed and said it was at least seven or eight feet. I don't know why she was so surprised - my rather portly exterior hides the heart of a track and field athlete.

This afternoon she rode Doc for the first time since TJ moved in. He was what the brits call "gob smacked" - absolutely incredulous and horrified. His eyes bulged, his nostrils quivered and he said "The maniak's tryin' ta killin him." He assumed she had put some sort of curse or spell on Doc and that was why he walked in circles with her on his back. TJ's agitation grew too great and he hurled himself on Doc so violently that both his front legs ended up on one side of Doc's neck with the rest of his body on the other, back legs pedalling along furiously while he tried to work out how to save him. Twice the woman stopped Doc and gently pushed TJ down, trying to reassure him all was well. TJ said, "He's a goner, she finally kilt him." Eventually the truth began to dawn on him and he calmed down enough to merely gyrate on the spot.

The machinery from the farm across the road is out in all it's maginficence and that fills me with a wonderful sense of satisfaction. I have a busy summer of supervising and potato counting ahead of me. I know I am up to the job.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

blogg by tj

ole lard butt is passd out in sand ring so i wil rite my thorts today. he go zzzzzzZZZZzzzzsnork. hahaha!

Todae he showd me how to hav fun with a whelbaroe. you put yore hed in ther and pull hard and it go kerrrrash and everythin spil all over. maniak woman say "boys, boys, behav yorselves!" huh? what do that mean? ole donkey man sae it mean we are a oppressed mass an are slaves to a imperilist overlord. huh? i don care - itsa lotta fun.

then maniak spin doc in circules and i attak him from all sidez. then i get stuk in rope thing an maniak sa "boys, boys, try to behav yorselves!" that is mosly what she sae all dae. maniak an us is all hot an swetty when it finish. mor fun.

then maniak go and get metal long thing and stare at the groun and sa "i am gonna attak these weeds and kil them." see? she is krazy. she attak weeds and go puf puf snort and then she pul on one sooo hard she fal over bakward on huge butt. hahahahah! then she go mental an start talkin to weed things and dirt fly all ovr. she kil a few but many mor replace them. maybe she go totaly berserkk an they tak her away to a aukshun. its a bad place where i neerly go once. they turn you into meet.

uhoh, ole mans eye is openin. see ya.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Return of "Her Bossiness"

We've had a wonderful time the last few days. Marianne, our substitute chambermaid, was far superior to the woman. She made our rooms up to perfection and left an artistic fan of carrots on each of our flakes of hay. She let us supervise to our hearts' content and told us all how superior and handsome we are. She didn't once refer to us as "a herd of calculating evil equine entities".

Doc doesn't like any sort of change so he acquired a messy cut over one eye before the woman left in hopes she would cancel her trip. It swelled up to an impressive boiled egg size and he moaned a little and stuck his head under the woman's arm. It very nearly worked and caused her to become agitated enough to consider not going but then she put some cream on it and it started getting better. Callous heart that she is, she went, though she kept running back to say yet another goodbye before she finally drove off. We immediately resumed foraging for food.

The male human was equally accomodating and saw to our every need. Unfortunately he didn't let us examine any power tools. Our friend Jamie was with him when he put us in last night and even though TJ has seen him many times, he wouldn't come in the barn with two human males in there. Jamie had to go and stand well outside the paddock before TJ would consent to enter. I haven't experienced it myself, but TJ says male humans are highly dangerous and unpredictable.

I'm sorry to say the woman came back blathering about a four day old mini TJ that she saw at this Equi-mania thing she attended. There was a sign saying it was a very rare black mini mule - just my luck, the only other one around and it comes here to live. The infant mule was a holy terror and kept his horse mother under a perpetual state of assault (when it wasn't doing laps of the stall). My advice to them is to leave it at the side of the road with a sign around it's neck saying "Free". Of course it would probably eat the sign.

Her presents to us are highly practical and therefore dull. A flymask with bubble- shaped eye covers that will make Doc look like a space alien. A beaded fly veil and bridle for Molly, a halter for TJ, and a fleece harness pad and stall front donkey cutout for me. The other humans bought their equines much nicer things - like sugary snack food. We did get new clippers and hopefully they're quieter than the gigantic ones they use on me that sound like B52 bombers.

Ah well, back to humouring herself. We all pretended not to know her last night but this morning I gave her a light nuzzling. Safer to keep on her good side.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008


When we moved here several years ago one of the first things I did was to go down to the end of the paddock and inspect the house and buildings across the road. There are many buildings containing lots of machinery and mountains of potatoes. The house is a pleasant abode of some century and a half , with gardens and shrubs and the usual surroundings of a human dwelling. And then I noticed a miniscule fluttering of a curtain in a window. There was a glint of light flashing off a glass surface and then the curtain stopped moving.

This puzzled me for a long while and I spent days staring at that window in a fixed manner. Then one day a face revealed itself. It was very pale and the top was surmounted by what appeared to be bluish cotton wool. The eyes were another shade of blue, very bright, and the glint I had seen was from her enormous spectacles, which made her eyes seem even larger. It was my first full glimpse of Granny. We spent the following years perfecting our staring game. In fact, the humans would look out the window of their houses on either side of the road and say "Oh no, Granny and Sheaffer are staring again!" We were unstoppable.

Until this past January, when Granny was taken away to something called a "Home". She simply disappeared out of my life. It seems she had grown too frail to comfortably stay across the road and so she had moved. The curtains don't flutter anymore even though I check every day just to be sure.

Today I received wonderful news. I have been invited to the "Home" to have tea with Granny and her friends! I can't wait. I know I will bond immediately with this herd of elderly blue-haired humans. They're quiet, don't make sudden movements and are happy to simply sit and stare for long periods of time. I have found my soulmates.

As soon as the Grannies can be assembled on the lawn of the "Home", I will be transported there in my metal box on wheels (with a shovel and broom in case things get too exciting). Finally, I'm getting out into the world and meeting the right sort of people. I'm told they often don't eat all their lunch and I will be happy to help the dining room staff deal with the excess, although I've already received a stern lecture about begging. I never BEG, I simply ask for the tiniest morsels when my blood sugar falls - strictly medical. Anyway, I will make detailed observations and report back on my mission.

Home Alone

We won't exactly be alone, but the woman is travelling with a herd of other horse women to some gigantic equi-fest in Ohio. They will be gone till Sunday evening and I certainly hope they return with adequate presents for us because we're not at all pleased with the inconvenience.

A pleasant woman called Marianne will be seeing to our chambermaid duties on Thursday and Friday. She came over yesterday so the woman could give her specifics as to how we like things done. For example, we like our beds deep and slightly banked and a goodnight mint in our feeder. The woman says they always do this in better hotels. Then she said "Don't let them blackmail you, and don't leave the wheelbarrow unattended because they'll tip it. Oh, and they're not allowed to play with the hose. And don't leave your jacket where they can get at it. Basically, they're not at all to be trusted." What slander! We are always kind and courteous and offer no end of help.

The male human will see to our needs on the weekend and that is a whole other story. He's famously absentminded and leaves doors open and objects lying around. He is also notoriously soft-hearted (unlike some I could mention) and gives us anything we demand. We're very much looking forward to his tenure and hope to have many stories of the fun activities we share with him. The woman says what I mean is perpetrate, not share, but she's always so negative.

I've dictated another blog entry to "Her Bossiness" and the male human is instructed to post it on Friday or Saturday, unless he forgets. I have a good mind to fire the woman and find someone more reliable to do my typing. A trained monkey, perhaps. Hehhehheh.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Running, Jumping and Hoisting a Heavy Weight

With everything drying out at a great rate, the woman decided it was time for the horses to begin an exercise program. This involves a ritual called longing (or lunging, whichever you prefer). She puts a very long rope device called a longeline on their halters and they then perform different paces while rotating around her. Typical. She gets to stand still and they get to work up a sweat. She once put this device on me and I quickly showed her all three paces in the correct order to illustrate that I had absorbed this juvenile process through simply observing. I did this in both directions and then turned and faced her, giving her a withering look. She professed utter astonishment at my performance and has never asked me to do this again.

TJ has never seen this before and became highly excited and alarmed when Doc began to circle. "Come back" he screamed. "She's tryin ta spin him ta death!" He got in under Doc's tail and stayed there through the first set of paces and then dropped off to one side. He was blowing like he'd just run a four minute mile. He quickly figured out that Doc didn't actually get anywhere and in fact made an excellent moving target for bouncing off and generally tormenting. Molly was next, but he watched her respectfully from the sidelines - he knows the painful pinch those large, yellow teeth can inflict.

Then the woman put my halter on and we set off on a walk, or what she calls "the Royal Progress". There are still some snowbanks in the farm lane and she selfishly refused to carry me over these. I was forced through knee-deep snow and had to take several breathers. I know it was only ten steps or so, but she was blind to my predicament. Once through, I indicated that I wished to take the longer route in order to inspect any changes that had occured over the winter. There was a damp pile of feathers on one trail and I smelled that for quite awhile, till it caused a violent sneezing fit.

Last week the whole bottom of the valley was full of rushing water but by yesterday we were able to take the trail that leads to the green bridge over the stream. I planted my feet at the edge of the bridge and insisted she go first. Good thing too. She took two steps and the whole thing spun up in the air and she suddenly disappeared from view. I stood rooted to the spot and eventually her head and shoulders appeared, covered in a variety of mud and vegetation. My first thought was "Good God, there really IS a troll under every bridge." She was laughing so I surmised she was simply filthy and not hurt. She told me to stand still and then grasped my fetlocks in both hands and hoisted herself out. I'd rather not be used as a hoist but I figured we'd be there forever if I didn't comply.

All in all, a very satisfying day, even if my ankles are a bit stiff.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

My Winter Project

I have finally finished a daunting project that I undertook in the fall. I set myself a goal of tunneling half way through the big tree in our paddock by springtime and I've succeeded. I have an abiding love of whittling anything made of wood and have many sets of wheelbarrow handles, fence rails, door fronts and other objects that I have transformed into astonishingly beautiful works of art. This is the first project I have undertaken on such a massive scale. I'm exhausted, but very pleased with my progress. By the end of next winter, I should be all the way through to the other side. The humans frown on my creative efforts but we artists know that it has always been thus with the baser classes.

I occasionally work in other media such as plastic, fabric and leather and in fact have completely reshaped some of the leather objects in the tack room. They are now unrecognizable. I have simplified some of the woman's garments by removing buttons and sleeves - much more streamlined, and believe me, she needs streamlining. I have reworked the plastic handle of our grooming box to such an abstract form that it is completely useless for it's original purpose but it's aesthetics have been vastly improved.

That said, wood remains my first love and preferred medium. I hope you enjoy the picture I have posted. The humans called it sheer vandalism but I know my readers will see in it an attempt by a sensitive soul to release the inner tree.

Friday, April 4, 2008

TJ Has (Another) Bad Day

Well, that's it for spring. Today dawned cold, rainy and sometimes snowy. I stayed in all morning and breakfasted in my room but then the woman appeared and threw me out into the elements. She's probably still harbouring a grudge about the tack room incident yesterday.

The cat hates rain and cold as much as I do, but she's drawn outside by the sounds of endless bird chattering these days. She feels their ranks need thinning and simply ignores the humans when they become upset at the gift of bird carcasses. She's also had a long standing feud with a chipmunk who lives in the driveshed. He's as mouthy as she is and we all dread their screaming matches. Might as well be in a fish market, the woman says.

The cat was on the second rail of the fence closest to the house when TJ spotted her. He pinned his ears and charged at her. Normally she would wait till the last minute and then spring to safety. Today, annoyed at the weather, she stood her ground. She has a full complement of long, sharp needles hidden inside each foot. Today, as TJ tried to shove her off the fence, she said "yeeeeoooowwwww" and swiped his muzzle with the needles fully extended. TJ said "OWWWW", and reeled back, "That cat thing knifed me in the face!"

Later, he and the horses had another fit of madness and tore around the paddock. TJ loves to charge under the low-lying trees because the others don't fit, but this time he came out with a huge branch tangled in his tail. "Help", he screamed, running toward Doc and Molly, "A monsta's got my tail!" They took one look and bolted off, TJ hot on their heels. The woman saw this from the house and rushed out, coatless and wearing sandals. She hoisted herself over the fence and immediately sank into the mire. She got Doc and Molly to stop running and this persuaded TJ to stop as well. She moved up to him slowly and sideways, making sure not to look directly at him (that's one of his many phobias). When she got near, he would whirl around and the branch would hit him on the side. He was convinced she was somehow striking him with invisible hands. It was now raining heavily. There they stood, a sodden tableau of human and equines. Finally, TJ moved up close to the fence and the branch was pulled off when it snagged on the post. Needless to say, I watched it all unfold from the shelter of the run-in.

All that running and drama hasn't depleted TJ's energy one bit. He galloped back to the run-in to tell me his version. "Didja see the maniac? She went mental an tried to beat me ta death but I excaped again!" I'm living in some sort of equine daycare, apparently.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Spring Fever

First of all, thank you to the lurkers who have declared themselves readers of my scribblings and thank you to old friends for your comments and helpful hints on mule control. I surmise the counter device we installed at the top of the blog is controlled by an elf-like creature who pulls a lever every time someone checks my blog. I've thought long and hard about it and can see no other way this constant tally could be kept. Yes, definitely elves. As payment for their trouble, they put small messages under the counter. The messages are a mystery to me - the first one says "Father and Daughter Wedding Songs" or something like that. There is only one piece of music suitable for weddings and that is Handel's Wedding March. There might be some sedate footwork to the strains of a chamber orchestra afterwards but nothing as unseemly as the singing of popular songs. Oh well, humour them we must, or the elf will stop counting.

Today was a rarity - the weather was perfect. This has caused TJ to become completely unhinged. He began racing around the paddock today, making "rrrrrooooooommmm" sounds and running till he was soaking wet. He only stopped when he couldn't get air into his lungs and stood there gasping and panting like an old lawn tractor. The woman goes slightly mad as well, and throws open all the doors and windows in the barn and begins sweeping and scrubbing and dusting like someone possessed. She opened the doors at both ends of the barn, the west end doors also being the back of TJ's temporary room. The other long side of his room is two boards which she undoes on one side to let him out, leaving the other ends in their holders.

TJ was on one of his galloping tours when he spotted the open doors. He tore into the barn and didn't see the woman as she was in my room cleaning. There were two bags of opened bedding in the aisle, with the scissors lying on top. TJ grabbed the handles of the scissors and ran off. Well! We heard "Eeeeeeeeee, noooooooo, TJ" and she emerged hot on his heels. "TeeeeeeJay, Teeeeee,Jay", she panted, "Stop him, he's running with scissors!" As if one of us were going to try to stop a lunatic running at us with the pointy end of a cutting device.

We other three equines joined in the chase, followed closely by the dog who was barking her fool head off. We did a few circuits of the paddock and TJ finally dropped his prize. The woman rummaged around short-sightedly in the mud and had a terrible time finding them. Meanwhile, we tore through the barn, snorting and bucking, tails held up like broomsticks - well, not my tail, but the others. We found the boards at the front of TJ's room an excellent excuse for some cross-country jumping.

The woman was still out there scissor-hunting and we had free run of the barn. And that's how we all got in trouble. Doc stomped into the tack room and tore apart the bag of peppermint snacks. He was so overwrought at his find that he accidently releived himself right on the spot!
Molly was annoyed that he wouldn't let her in with him, so she systematically oveturned all the freshly cleaned and filled water buckets standing in the aisle. TJ crept in under Doc's tail and pulled down a basket with many items from the shelf - none were food, but some did get trampled. I was a (mostly) innocent bystander.

The woman returned, very red and sweaty from her laps around the barn. 'GET OUT", she bellowed, "YOU SNEAKY, UNGRATEFUL, #^%#*&^%$#!" I've checked and most of the words aren't in the dictionary. Doc gets panicky when he's found out in a crime and he trashed a few more things in his hurry to back out of the tack room. "And YOU", she said, glaring at me, "Don't give me that hurt look, your breath reeks of mints." I beat a hasty retreat.

No insomnia for me tonight, all that excitement and exercise has left me exhausted.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008


You may have noticed some odd icons in boxes at the top of my blog. The woman is trying to figure out if more than a handful of people and donkeys are reading my blog. She's a bit slow and just discovered how to put an abacus like counting device on here. There are also some places you can go to let me know if my daily musings are of interest - I hope they are, I put in such busy days it makes my head spin.

My correspondents Fred and Ginger have told me about a shocking pseudo-sporting event where large humans climb on top of donkeys and try to throw a ball though an elevated basket contraption. The donkeys hate it and the audience laughs and mocks their dignified attempts to comply. First they steal our image for some unknown political party and now they mock us for our inablility to play a childish game. Anyone who knows donkeys knows the only organized game we enjoy is croquet. It has has a wonderfully slow pace and the playing field provides built-in snacking. A player can doze quietly in the sun while listening to the gentle click of wooden mallet on wooden sphere. These can also provide a snacking opportunity, though the surface is shockingly hard for whittling.

Our muck and mire has started to dry out, the cat came into the paddock and told us all off, and various birds are ransacking every inch of the property for building material. Molly's sheddings could provide housing for a few million avian friends, though I can't imagine what their houses would smell like when they got wet.