The Equi-Garburator

That would be Wilson, of course.

The event in question unfolded just as the humans were expecting company. Wilson's timing was exquisite. Herself came bustling out to the barn, wheeled in the refuse transporter and threw a large mass of "compost" into it. She regarded us distractedly, said "Ohhhh, flymasks" and disappeared into the barn. Wilson examined the large mass and without pausing for breath, scarfed the lot. The Woman returned, flymasks in hand. She looked highly puzzled and searched the area. Then she looked highly alarmed and, clutching the veterinarian's card, rushed off to make telephonic communication with him.

Wilson ate: a large coffee filter and grounds, bunches of green onions and a quantity of cabbage, amongst other revolting and slimy things. The Woman feared the filter would create some sort of clog in Wilson's digestive workings, causing him extreme distress as well as "weirdin' out the guests" as Wilson put it. I must note here that he developed the worst halitosis I've ever encountered and it endured unabated for the balance of the day.

The veterinarian's diagnosis: a large bran mash was prescribed, and a warning that though Wilson would probably be fine (it seems the filter is a form of fibre) the rich mixture of composting refuse would undoubtedly leave him highly flatulent and rather hyperactive for the near future. He was absolutely right. Wilson trotted around busily, enveloped in a cloud of vile green gas for several hours. The guests seemed quite impressed (or possibly horrified).

Next morning, Wilson was quite recovered. In fact, on his way out the door, he picked up a curry comb, brushed the floor with it, and then stepped across the aisle and began brushing my face. The Woman was highly amused. I was not.

Footnote: I should add that the veterinarian said horses often enjoy eating paper products and in fact one of his clients ate his own export papers, which had been attached to his stall door. Our dear, departed pony Daisy ate the larger part of a questionable publication called "Awake" or "Watchtower" or some such thing, left by a group of religious zealots. She absorbed none of the contents and remained a life-long heathen.

The Shoulder Incident

Wilson is quite embarassed and doesn't wish me to discuss this but I have promised...I told him I would lean toward an empathetic telling.

The Woman, Penny the Dog and Wilson Pony were out walking in the big field at the end of March. Wilson had arrived just the week before and was still settling in. I should point out that the Woman was leading Wilson on a long rope, having just finished spinning him around on the end of the longer rope in the sand area in the paddock. Things were going well, with Wilson occasionally grabbing a snack of the very earliest grass. The sauntering and snacking continued whilst Penny rummaged around in the hedgerow. Next thing we knew, a loud shrieking filled the air and continued unabated. Molly and I were in the barn dozing and we awakened with the rudest of starts.

Wilson says he couldn't locate the source of the siren-like wailing and became a trifle upset but kept his nerves in check. It seems Penny had caught a large rabbit and was holding onto it by it's posterior as they both zoomed across the field. Then, Penny lost her grip and was left with a mouthful of fur. She was so incensed that SHE then began a secondary chorus of screaming. Wilson could not see what was going on and assumed that Armagaddon was upon us, or at least an invasion by hysterical, shrieking aliens. He called to us in garbled tones that we understood as "UNDER ATTACK MONSTERS EVERYWHERE HELPPPP" and we quickly chimed in with advice "RUN RUN RUN HEAD FOR HOME!" So he immediately sprang into action. The Woman later remarked that we were the most useless Greek Chorus in history. (I must research that.)

Unfortunately, in his panic, he forgot that Herself was attached to the end of the rope. They made their way down the field in a series of circles, the Woman's elbow firmly planted in Wilson's neck. And that is how the shoulder came to be a shadow of it's former self.

Shoulder rehab continues and Wilson is working with the trainer as the Woman is rather limited in gesticulating with her right arm. On a brighter note, it's much easier to ignore her commands if necessary and watching her doing things with her left hand is an endless source of amusement.

Wilson says he is staying far away from all things rabbit for the forseeable future. And he claims he is quite contrite although he continues to indulge in all sorts of prankish pony behaviour that leads me question his vow of reformation.

***And once again, I apologize for the mysterious lack of paragraphs. I put them in and poof! gone.

A Word About Wilson...

That word is PONY. He is ten years old, a blotchy design of brown and white and smarter than most other beings on the planet. His nicknames are "Einstein", "Clever Clogs" and "The Pony Calculator". The trainer has described him as "frighteningly bright" and the person who cared for us in the absence of the regular humans called him "Brat Face", "Smarty Pants" and "you little ^%$#^^%$*#".

Wilson arrived in an enormous box on wheels at the end of March - by enormous I mean that it held nine equines. Two of those were called Mike and Tommy and are 19hh. I very much wish we had been able to visit with those equine edifices but they were on their way to somewhere called Calgary.

Molly immediately laid down the law about my being a sacred object around here and threatened to do terrible things to him for three days. Then she announced she quite fancied him. I find him personable and an excellent mutual neck scratcher. He had never lived indoors before but has taken to it so well that he now declares he can't exist without deep bedding, ice cubes in his evening water and his own fan.

The trainer has had some interesting interactions with him but Wilson seems to be gradually bringing him to heel - though the trainer thinks the reverse. The wheels in the pony brain never stop spinning. The woman has ridden him a bit but is still maundering on about her shoulder - the damage to which was caused inadvertently by Wilson...

But that is a story for another day and involves four different species.