Sunday, November 29, 2009

She Returns - Followed by Bad Weather

To be expected, I suppose. We had a nice little holiday, catered to by the genial Jamie human who tends to be quite free with the foodstuffs, despite her written instructions. No glares, no huffing, no orders barked into our quivering ears. Just peace and quiet and naps in sunny spots while warming up for the next meal.

As usual, on her return she rushed over to our paddock bellowing, "Did you miss me?" at 87 decibels. We three boys simply stared in horrified amazement but Molly let out a chorus of gutteral sounds that was intended to be a warm greeting. Molly always hedges her bets. After Herself had tucked us in our rooms she cornered me and made a series of hideous kissing noises on my face. Unsanitary and uncalled for. Jack dribbled gruel on her shoes and Doc merely increased his output of flatulence to such a level that she gagged and retreated with her hands over her face.

She says she had a lovely time visiting with CindyLouWho, Finn Pony and their woman. I'm sure she did and they're so polite they said they had an equally lovely time. She says CindyLou is even more magnificent in person - a skyscraper of a horse with all the bearing of the aged Queen Victoria. Finn Pony is only five, the very picture of a perfect pony, and someone with whom Doc would very much enjoy "rasslin". CindyLou does not approve of rasslin, much to the pony's dissapointment. Both equines are travelling to Florida for the winter so Finn can pursue his driving career, while CindyLou coaches him. I assume Formula One, but Jack says probably something called Nascar.

I have included some photos of the driving duo for my readers enjoyment.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving South of the Border!

I am without the benefit of a typist as Herself has intruded upon the most celebrated day in the USA. Typical. I very much doubt she was invited. She even showed up at Cindy Lou Who's place, complete with camera.

This is most inconvenient from my perspective but on the other hand, it provides a mental health break away from her awfulness.

To my many friends of the American persuasion, I extend the heartiest of Thanksgiving greetings and beg your forgiveness for the presence in your nation of one of our worst national scourges.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Just a Few Things to Note...

The theme around the barn this week has been hairstyles. For reasons I cannot fully explain, we have all suddenly taken a keen interest in modifying our appearances. With no opposable thumbs and no access to the better type of hair styling product, we have had to make do with nature's offerings.

Doc started us off by sticking his head in a burr bush and rotating it in a brisk circular motion. His forelock stood up in a conical fashion, the burrs worked in so thoroughly and tightly that the corners of his eyes were pulled up. Then, he worked some more burrs into his mane so that it stood up in points. Satisfied with his handiwork, he showed the results to us and then went off to impress the woman. She sighed and looked heavenward and then fetched the mane comb and spray bottle of hair detangler. Just as well, since Doc's scalp was beginning to itch fiercely and he was developing a migraine headache.

"La Molly" went next and focused on a leaf and twig bound together by mud theme. She felt she looked like a super model but in fact she strongly resembled a compost heap in both appearance and odour. The only one who dared voice that opinion was the woman who used every tool in the grooming box to get the worst of it off.

Jack went for an damp manure/ sand theme and emerged from a vigourous roll with the aura of a mud wrestler gone mad. He smelled even worse than Molly and had to dry out before the woman would approach close enough to begin the removal process. He was incensed that she misunderstood his hard work and said "huh, she don't even kno this heres a ancient health and beyooty treamint." He vows to repeat his "treatment" as soon as the elements allow.

As for myself, my new hairstyle was somewhat inadvertent. I was eating my hay as Jack worked on his gruel and somehow his bucket holder slid over against the partition. I thought I felt something soggy and warm landing on my person but only later realized it was patches of gruel. Jack offered to clean it off, though I fear his motive was fueled more by not wanting to waste any dinner rather than a desire for cleanliness. His cleanup consisted of washing it backwards against the lie of my coat, so that when the woman returned later, my hair was standing on end, held in place by a hard paste of saliva and gruel. Out came the grooming box...

Sally's new look is a secret to the woman but not to us. One of us is washing her from head to foot during the night, leaving her fur so fluffed up that she looks like a feline puffball. Sally is always back in her bed and the four of us standing innocently at the back of our rooms when the woman arrives, so the mystery continues to baffle her. She doesn't need to know everything.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


It was absolutely harrowing. It has taken me nearly a week to work up the courage to even speak of it. I'm surprised it didn't turn me into an albino donkey overnight.

To set the stage, it was an evening like most others. Herself clanged and clattered around in the tack room, preparing our evening meal, Sally played sabre tooth tiger in the hay pile in the aisle and Penny scouted around for edibles (ie: virtually anything). Herself opened the door and the other three marched into their rooms and began swilling away at the trough. I prefer to take my time and usually stand outside until the spirit moves me, at which point I slowly make my way inside. This particular evening was no exception and I stood pondering the more complicated points of the universe.

I had just stepped into the run-in when the most alarming series of events began to unfold. It was by now pitch black outside and the first thing I saw was a pinpoint of light up high in our hay storage. There were some rustling sounds and suddenly an avalanche of bales crashed into the metal gates. From under the bales came a series of hideous grunts and gutteral noises. The light, which was obviously the eye of a savage predator, now rose from the hay pile - and it was attached to a hulking, growling form! Yes, a bear, and probably a grizzly from the sounds of it.

I wasted no time in following that succinct Shakespearean stage direction "Exit, stage left, pursued by bear". The beast did indeed pursue me and then began calling my name. I broke a land speed record in retreating to the far reaches of the paddock. It gradually occurred to my adrenalin primed brain that I am not on a first name basis with any bears; the voice revealed itself as...yes, you know who.

The beam of light sought me out and Herself, wearing almost an entire bale of hay about her person, limped over to apologize and console me. I refused to be consoled and rejected the apology. I galloped to the other end of the paddock in a state of highest dudgeon. I simply could not believe that even SHE could create such havoc through sheer clumsiness. I stayed out in the dark, brooding. And what were my herd mates doing meanwhile? Why, carrying on as if I hadn't been a victim of a savage bear attack! Yes, yes, I know, it wasn't an actual bear. But it could have been.

I finally consented to be bribed inside with a gummi worm and bit of apple. Jack was highly delighted with the entire drama. "playin davy crocket, were ya? king of the wild frontier? sonny, ya caint skin a bear if yer runnin the other way". And then he wheezed and shook till his eyes watered. Old people can be amused by the most inappropriate things.

Friday, November 6, 2009

About That Calendar...

Those of you who would like to be in my calendar, please send photos with as many pixies (she can't possibly mean pixels?) as possible to my email address;

Fred and Ginger are supervising the assembly of said calendar and we will try to include as many faithful readers as possible. All proceeds to go to PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

A Word from Jack

sonny has took to his room til spring he sez becuz today some a thet sideways snow pellet bead stuff come up on us by surprize. he took it real bad and aint hardly sayin nothin which is rite pekuliar fer him cauze he usualy caint shut up. jack he sez to me, i'm near ta givin up and the worse is yet ta come. truss him ta look on the brite side. hes still eatin good tho.

myself, i growed a big fur coat and packed on the paddin and i say bring 'er on. i been runnin sonny aroun the place befor dinner every nite ta git us in shape and also juss cuz i feel like runnin. when i git him goin good i start a yellin and hollerin at the top of my lung and it makes him start too and then that woman come a rushin out and ast what in tarnation has come over us. sonny is blowin like a expres train but i'm breathin so easy i wouldin blow out a candle. then we go inside and i git my three course blue plate speshul. i say life ain't bad atall atall. sonny never had ta live where and how i done. he thinks hes livin the hard life but he dont know nothin. all that brain work makes him what ya call oversensatuve.

herself jus come bak with a load a beddin so i gotta go help her. shes loss without me. i know that fer sure cuz jest this mornin i open the door and come in the barn when she was cleanin jest so i could use sonnys room fer whadda ya call "personal relief" and she sez jack what would i do without ya helpin me. its nice ta be interspensible.