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.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
Various
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.
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.
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