As usual, Doc was very sorry after the fact (undressing Jack) and to make amends, he washed him from head to foot. Jack didn't necessarily want to be washed but he knows Doc well enough to recognize that the offer was meant in good faith, even though it's a bit cold for a full-body bath. He also knows that sometimes a little discomfort is better than a more physical Doc apology . The woman later spent ages brushing Jack to try and flatten the collection of cow licks that occured when his hair dried. She reassured him that he didn't look peculiar with his new disheveled style, but was sporting the very trendy "bed head" look. He appeared dubious.
The next day, when the woman was off visiting Molly, Doc felt compelled to carry all the rubber mats from our run-in to an area at the back of the barn. He piled them in the snow and was viewing his handiwork when she returned. She seemed to understand that it was some sort of sublimation of his desire to undress Jack and she just patted him and said not to worry, spring would be here in six or seven years.
After this week of drama, it seemed a good time to discuss the list of barn rules that I had posted in the barn a couple of years ago. The humans went to an exhibition on Catherine the Great of Russia and came back with her list of rules to be followed by anyone attending her salons. They are so perfectly thought out that I have adopted them as my own. I mean, even such luminaries as Voltaire had to follow them. If he ever comes to visit me, he will already understand the ground rules. They are as follows.
1. All ranks shall be left outside the doors, similarly hats and particularly swords (Doc disputes the sword rule)
2. Orders of precedence and haughtiness, and anything of such like which might result from them, shall be left at the doors. (A touch of donkey aloofness will not be frowned upon, however).
3. Be merry, but neither spoil nor break anything, nor indeed gnaw on anything. (Twigs will be supplied for guests).
4. Be seated, stand or walk as it best pleases you, regardless of others. (Guests may also lie down and roll if they so choose).
5. Speak with moderation and not too loudly, so that others present have not an earache or headache. (Braying is permitted).
6. Argue without anger or passion. (Doc says what's the point,then?).
7. Do not sigh or yawn, neither bore nor fatigue others. (Molly is not allowed to expound on her "great beauty" adinfinitum).
8. Agree to partake of any innocent entertainment suggested by others. (Except Twister - it overstimulates Doc and makes Jack too stiff the next day).
9. Eat well of good things, but drink with moderation so that each should be able always to find his legs on leaving these doors. (Doc disagrees violently with the second part).
10. All disputes must stay behind closed doors; and what goes in one ear should go out the other before departing through the doors. (Although donkeys never, ever forget anything, especially disparaging remarks about their ears).
The punishment for infringing on these rules was to drink a glass of cold water and read a page from the "Telemachida" out loud. I find this puzzling - it sounds like more of a reward to me, but I seem to be alone in this sentiment.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Jack The Reluctant Test Pilot
With Molly gone to winter boarding, Doc has been moping around and just generally looking glum. This morning the woman went off to the human feed store and left us in the sun with our hay. Because there was a cold wind blowing, Jack was wearing his checked coat. And that gave Doc an idea. Doc's "ideas" invariably follow a tortuous path to an inevitable cataclysmic finale.
"Dood", Doc said to Jack. "I kin have ya outta that dork suit in no time". Jack wasn't convinced. He's quite proud of his new coat and said he'd have to think it over. What that means is that he will suck on one of his remaining teeth while falling into a reverie which then turns into a light doze. Doc is not noted for his patience, and while Jack was at the reverie stage, Doc grabbed the top of his blanket and suspended him in midair, like someone dangling on a rope under a rescue aircraft. Jack awoke with a start. "Lissen sonny", he said, "I never volunteered for the air farce, you set me down quick". Doc made some muffled noises and dropped him with a thud.
Jack was now sitting on his hindquarters with the blanket pulled over his head. There were exclamations of horror from inside the blanket but we couldn't quite make out what he was saying. I began berating Doc, reminding him that Jack wasn't some sort of elderly Flying Walenda to be spun around like a circus performer. With that, Doc grabbed the blanket once more and by dint of a series of violent jerks, caused Jack to slide out onto the snow like a newborn seal. Jack was both incensed and disoriented and went off to the run-in to have an attack of indignant squitters.
Doc swung the blanket around in circles over his head and when that grew old, threw it on the ground and began attacking it like a terrier. He did not realize that the woman had turned in the driveway and had seen the drama unfold in it's entirety. She sped up, shot past the house turn-off , beeped the beeper thing at him and screeched to a halt. We could hear her ranting before she opened the door. When the door flew open, she disembarked, followed by an avalance of spilled foodstuffs. She was an unbecoming shade of dark purple. Doc attempted a hasty retreat, which would have been flawless except that one of the straps from Jack's blanket was caught around his front leg. He galloped away, doing a demented Highland fling with the encumbered limb and eventually flicking off the offending blanket. Then he hid behind the barn. And the woman stomped off with the blanket.
There is always some sort of farce being played out around here. I just never know if I'll be a member of the audience or in the spotlight. I tried to comfort Jack by telling him the Bard of Avon had once sagely remarked that "all the world's a stage". "Don't know no Bart Haven", said Jack, "but I'm at a stage where I could do with considerable less ickcitement".
"Dood", Doc said to Jack. "I kin have ya outta that dork suit in no time". Jack wasn't convinced. He's quite proud of his new coat and said he'd have to think it over. What that means is that he will suck on one of his remaining teeth while falling into a reverie which then turns into a light doze. Doc is not noted for his patience, and while Jack was at the reverie stage, Doc grabbed the top of his blanket and suspended him in midair, like someone dangling on a rope under a rescue aircraft. Jack awoke with a start. "Lissen sonny", he said, "I never volunteered for the air farce, you set me down quick". Doc made some muffled noises and dropped him with a thud.
Jack was now sitting on his hindquarters with the blanket pulled over his head. There were exclamations of horror from inside the blanket but we couldn't quite make out what he was saying. I began berating Doc, reminding him that Jack wasn't some sort of elderly Flying Walenda to be spun around like a circus performer. With that, Doc grabbed the blanket once more and by dint of a series of violent jerks, caused Jack to slide out onto the snow like a newborn seal. Jack was both incensed and disoriented and went off to the run-in to have an attack of indignant squitters.
Doc swung the blanket around in circles over his head and when that grew old, threw it on the ground and began attacking it like a terrier. He did not realize that the woman had turned in the driveway and had seen the drama unfold in it's entirety. She sped up, shot past the house turn-off , beeped the beeper thing at him and screeched to a halt. We could hear her ranting before she opened the door. When the door flew open, she disembarked, followed by an avalance of spilled foodstuffs. She was an unbecoming shade of dark purple. Doc attempted a hasty retreat, which would have been flawless except that one of the straps from Jack's blanket was caught around his front leg. He galloped away, doing a demented Highland fling with the encumbered limb and eventually flicking off the offending blanket. Then he hid behind the barn. And the woman stomped off with the blanket.
There is always some sort of farce being played out around here. I just never know if I'll be a member of the audience or in the spotlight. I tried to comfort Jack by telling him the Bard of Avon had once sagely remarked that "all the world's a stage". "Don't know no Bart Haven", said Jack, "but I'm at a stage where I could do with considerable less ickcitement".
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Our Magnificent Presents
We were finally allowed to see the mysterious presents from our aunt and uncle and it was well worth the wait. The woman clomped in, the male human in tow, followed closely by the dog. The male human carried one of those noise making tools that fasten things. The woman was carrying two beautifully crafted signs with our names on them - and the legend "Donkeys Forever" underneath. She showed them to us so we could see our names writ large and Jack and I were quite overcome. I'm not sure how well Jack can read but I spelled it out for him and he said "I never seen nothin' the likes a that". I have attached photos for my readers to see. I believe these name plates are very much like those in the Queen's own stables (but even nicer). Thank you very much indeed to Mr. & Mrs. Gale.
This was a very positive experience after the fright the woman gave us last night. We were snoozing peacefully when we heard her footsteps clumping toward the barn. Ahhh, we thought, last meal of the day is on it's way. We saw the beam of the portable light and heard the latch on the gate clunk. Then I heard a strange clinking and clanking superimposed on the other noises. I went into instant high alert mode. Jack's a bit deaf so he just said "I don't hear nothin cept Doc snorin".
The door swung open and she turned on the lights. What I saw caused me to try to exit directly through the back wall. It was her alright, but she was wearing a Medusa-like headress of icicles that stuck out crazily at all angles. Her beady blue eyes peered at me shortsightedly and she said "Sheaffer, what on earth has posessed you"? Posessed ME? Hah! I was the one to be asking that particular question. She leaned into my stall, making the noise of a thousand breaking bottles and tried to touch my neck to reassure me. I tried to climb up on the stall partition. It seems she had washed or dry cleaned or whatever it is she does to her hair and had come directly out to the barn. I don't care to be wakened from my slumbers by what appears to be a spectre with an ice cactus on it's head. I hope I made my feelings clear.
It's always something.
This was a very positive experience after the fright the woman gave us last night. We were snoozing peacefully when we heard her footsteps clumping toward the barn. Ahhh, we thought, last meal of the day is on it's way. We saw the beam of the portable light and heard the latch on the gate clunk. Then I heard a strange clinking and clanking superimposed on the other noises. I went into instant high alert mode. Jack's a bit deaf so he just said "I don't hear nothin cept Doc snorin".
The door swung open and she turned on the lights. What I saw caused me to try to exit directly through the back wall. It was her alright, but she was wearing a Medusa-like headress of icicles that stuck out crazily at all angles. Her beady blue eyes peered at me shortsightedly and she said "Sheaffer, what on earth has posessed you"? Posessed ME? Hah! I was the one to be asking that particular question. She leaned into my stall, making the noise of a thousand breaking bottles and tried to touch my neck to reassure me. I tried to climb up on the stall partition. It seems she had washed or dry cleaned or whatever it is she does to her hair and had come directly out to the barn. I don't care to be wakened from my slumbers by what appears to be a spectre with an ice cactus on it's head. I hope I made my feelings clear.
It's always something.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
A Brand New Year
The woman has been flagging at her keyboard duties (she claims it is a busy season for humans) but today I have shamed her into action. I don't care for having my communication with my friends at the mercy of her social life. I have spoken to her sternly and she says it won't happen again, at least for another year. I will accept that for now - with reservations.
Today began as usual but around noon Molly was taken inside and cleaned up - as much as a wooly mammoth can be said to be cleaned in any way. Her mane was slicked down and her tail poofed out and the longest of her leg hair removed. Hmm, I thought, something is afoot. Sure enough, around three o'clock the tall woman showed up with her box on wheels and off went Molly. It seems she has gone to something called "winter boarding" not far from here. There is a large room called an arena and Molly will haul the woman around in there while they both try to get in shape for the upcoming trail season. Oh to be a fly on the wall. The grunting and groaning will be heard as far south as the border and I expect they will churn up clouds of dust in the process. Much like a buffalo stampede but without the majestic prarie backdrop. Doc is bereft.
Yesterday we received a surprise New Year's present from our aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gale. A brown box on wheels rushed up the driveway and the human inside jumped out and inserted a box between the house doors. The blasted woman won't show us what it is. There is to be some installation by the male human and until then it's a "surprise". Hah! Semantics is what it is - witholding our personal present for her own devious reasons is more like it. She promises photos sometime soon and says we will be thrilled. Attilla the Hen isn't happy unless she's calling all the tunes around here.
We have news from the PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary, where all is busy as usual and TJ has learnt his place in the herd. Now he's actually being bullied by some of the others - and what better way to start my New Year's than to hear that! He is slowly letting Sheila touch him on his flanks but likes to control the amount of "hands on" time and simply leaves when he decides he's had enough. Sheila has the patience of Job and needs it, given the treatment many of the donkeys have endured before they reach her. Her oldest resident, Brennan, died shortly before Christmas and she is missing him sorely. He was well into his forties and she ensured his that last years were spent in comfort, surrounded by worshipping humans and donkey companions.
Sheila is not one to blow her own horn so I will do that for her. She was awarded the very prestigious Animal Action Award, given by the International Fund for Animal Welfare. Six hundred nominees were narrowed down to ten and then Sheila was chosen as the winner. I can't think of anyone more deserving. Of course, just letting TJ into her life should earn her a medal for extreme valour and bravery. Or a lifetime supply of nerve tonic.
Today began as usual but around noon Molly was taken inside and cleaned up - as much as a wooly mammoth can be said to be cleaned in any way. Her mane was slicked down and her tail poofed out and the longest of her leg hair removed. Hmm, I thought, something is afoot. Sure enough, around three o'clock the tall woman showed up with her box on wheels and off went Molly. It seems she has gone to something called "winter boarding" not far from here. There is a large room called an arena and Molly will haul the woman around in there while they both try to get in shape for the upcoming trail season. Oh to be a fly on the wall. The grunting and groaning will be heard as far south as the border and I expect they will churn up clouds of dust in the process. Much like a buffalo stampede but without the majestic prarie backdrop. Doc is bereft.
Yesterday we received a surprise New Year's present from our aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gale. A brown box on wheels rushed up the driveway and the human inside jumped out and inserted a box between the house doors. The blasted woman won't show us what it is. There is to be some installation by the male human and until then it's a "surprise". Hah! Semantics is what it is - witholding our personal present for her own devious reasons is more like it. She promises photos sometime soon and says we will be thrilled. Attilla the Hen isn't happy unless she's calling all the tunes around here.
We have news from the PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary, where all is busy as usual and TJ has learnt his place in the herd. Now he's actually being bullied by some of the others - and what better way to start my New Year's than to hear that! He is slowly letting Sheila touch him on his flanks but likes to control the amount of "hands on" time and simply leaves when he decides he's had enough. Sheila has the patience of Job and needs it, given the treatment many of the donkeys have endured before they reach her. Her oldest resident, Brennan, died shortly before Christmas and she is missing him sorely. He was well into his forties and she ensured his that last years were spent in comfort, surrounded by worshipping humans and donkey companions.
Sheila is not one to blow her own horn so I will do that for her. She was awarded the very prestigious Animal Action Award, given by the International Fund for Animal Welfare. Six hundred nominees were narrowed down to ten and then Sheila was chosen as the winner. I can't think of anyone more deserving. Of course, just letting TJ into her life should earn her a medal for extreme valour and bravery. Or a lifetime supply of nerve tonic.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Post-Christmas Sogginess
The weather is completely out of control. After nearly suffocating in snowdrifts while enduring frostbite, it has now been pouring for an entire day. Water is creeping into the run-in, turning it into a mud pit and the melting snow has revealed all sorts of debris. We were let back in the barn around one o'clock and given hay and very deep beds so we could relax in comfort. I find myself strangely drawn to thoughts of building an ark.
My Christmas report is as follows. As far as I can tell, the humans spent the day in the house eating and unwrapping things. When the woman came out to do our night feed, she smelled strongly of poultry and apple cider. I don't care for the poultry aroma but the apple cider smell is quite pleasant. I should note here that we weren't offered any.
I received my usual Christmas fare; one plastic candy cane filled with stud muffins and a new bucket. Jack received a strange snacking device called a Likit. It hangs up and contains some sort of block of sweet stuff. I don't know what the woman is thinking - the veterinary dental torturer won't approve at all. Doc and Molly also got buckets and stud muffins. Very little imagination was shown this year. I expect the woman to put a little more thought into my Easter bucket.
The cat and dog received far superior presents. The dog got a toy that looks like a Santa Claus that has swallowed tennis ball. She also got a replacement for her rubber hamburger which has suffered irreparable collateral damage. Unfortunately, she received a bag of snacks that combine lamb and trout flavourings. Her breath smells like bilge water from an ocean-going fish factory. They may also have heroin in them as she has become fixated on the cupboard which holds the bag.
The cat received a hideous object called a Loofa toy - it is pink, furry, dog-shaped and has an alarmingly manic smile. It is stuffed with catnip and something crinkly, so she can become inebriated while driving everyone nearly mad with the sound effects. Continuing the fish theme, she received herring and whitefish snacks, which may also contain heroin. She drools when she sees the bag and like the dog, emanates a strong cloud of fish odour wherever she goes.
Jack and I took our "Merry Christmas" banner down today. We are in preparation for our New Year celebration. Removing the banner had the unexpected but rewarding result of seeing the woman crawling around on her hands and knees looking for the pins that affixed it to our stall. I'm afraid she found them all. I was looking forward to performing the role of a poor, suffering donkey who may (or may not) have swallowed one. Nothing much else to entertain us at this time of year.
I hope you all enjoyed your holidays and unlike the humans here, are not pale green and complaining about overeating. Oh well, at least they're confined to the house with the pervasive smell of canine/feline fish breath.
My Christmas report is as follows. As far as I can tell, the humans spent the day in the house eating and unwrapping things. When the woman came out to do our night feed, she smelled strongly of poultry and apple cider. I don't care for the poultry aroma but the apple cider smell is quite pleasant. I should note here that we weren't offered any.
I received my usual Christmas fare; one plastic candy cane filled with stud muffins and a new bucket. Jack received a strange snacking device called a Likit. It hangs up and contains some sort of block of sweet stuff. I don't know what the woman is thinking - the veterinary dental torturer won't approve at all. Doc and Molly also got buckets and stud muffins. Very little imagination was shown this year. I expect the woman to put a little more thought into my Easter bucket.
The cat and dog received far superior presents. The dog got a toy that looks like a Santa Claus that has swallowed tennis ball. She also got a replacement for her rubber hamburger which has suffered irreparable collateral damage. Unfortunately, she received a bag of snacks that combine lamb and trout flavourings. Her breath smells like bilge water from an ocean-going fish factory. They may also have heroin in them as she has become fixated on the cupboard which holds the bag.
The cat received a hideous object called a Loofa toy - it is pink, furry, dog-shaped and has an alarmingly manic smile. It is stuffed with catnip and something crinkly, so she can become inebriated while driving everyone nearly mad with the sound effects. Continuing the fish theme, she received herring and whitefish snacks, which may also contain heroin. She drools when she sees the bag and like the dog, emanates a strong cloud of fish odour wherever she goes.
Jack and I took our "Merry Christmas" banner down today. We are in preparation for our New Year celebration. Removing the banner had the unexpected but rewarding result of seeing the woman crawling around on her hands and knees looking for the pins that affixed it to our stall. I'm afraid she found them all. I was looking forward to performing the role of a poor, suffering donkey who may (or may not) have swallowed one. Nothing much else to entertain us at this time of year.
I hope you all enjoyed your holidays and unlike the humans here, are not pale green and complaining about overeating. Oh well, at least they're confined to the house with the pervasive smell of canine/feline fish breath.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Violet's Thoughtful Christmas Gift
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring - well actually, a mouse
Imagine our surprise when in the middle of last night a light went on in an upstairs window. The top half of the woman appeared and she seemed to be yelling something. Fairly typical - the yelling part. Her hair was standing on end and she was doing a series of clumsy balletic moves. "She's as mad as a hatter", I said to Jack. "Yep", he replied. 'crazy as a bedbug". We just assumed she was having some species of fit and had turned on the light to see better. But no. The feline had thoughtfully contributed a mouse to the festive table and had awakened the woman by loud howling so she could present it fresh and on the hoof, so to speak. The feline believes in combining her gifts with the elements of shock and awe.
A misunderstanding arose when the woman thought it was one of the felt mouse toys, of which the cat has many. She is notoriously short-sighted without her spectacles (the woman, not the cat - the cat has x-ray vision and night goggles). She went to pick it up and put it away till morning and then discovered that it was still moving. Hence the lively riverdance-like routine we had witnessed. Apparently the dog then got in on things and confusion reigned. According to first hand accounts, the mouse had so many holes in it that it looked like it had been the victim of a mob hit with a machine gun.
The woman retreated to bed, leaving the cat to finish off the poor, suffering mouse. The morning light revealed a scene of bloody carnage in the front hall but no sign of a body. This could prove most interesting as the cat has a habit of consuming the top half of the victim and presenting the bottom half as a gift. It looks like a pair of small furry pants with tiny feet and a long tail. Utterly revolting. The cat may be saving it for later presentation, which would be ideal, as another group of humans are coming over to dine this evening. One can only imagine the chaos as fifty percent of a mouse is discovered under the tree or in a gift bag! The cat is saying nothing but is looking even more smug than ever. I will keep everyone updated, but our hopes are high of having another piece of high drama played out for our benefit.
Wishing everyone of you a very happy holiday. I wish you could all be here with me to share in the festive season (not the snow and cold part, of course). There would be hot mashes for all, dry twigs to chew on and lots of those mint sticks. We would finish off the festivities with a rousing game of pin-the-tail-on-the-woman. Joy to the world!
Not a creature was stirring - well actually, a mouse
Imagine our surprise when in the middle of last night a light went on in an upstairs window. The top half of the woman appeared and she seemed to be yelling something. Fairly typical - the yelling part. Her hair was standing on end and she was doing a series of clumsy balletic moves. "She's as mad as a hatter", I said to Jack. "Yep", he replied. 'crazy as a bedbug". We just assumed she was having some species of fit and had turned on the light to see better. But no. The feline had thoughtfully contributed a mouse to the festive table and had awakened the woman by loud howling so she could present it fresh and on the hoof, so to speak. The feline believes in combining her gifts with the elements of shock and awe.
A misunderstanding arose when the woman thought it was one of the felt mouse toys, of which the cat has many. She is notoriously short-sighted without her spectacles (the woman, not the cat - the cat has x-ray vision and night goggles). She went to pick it up and put it away till morning and then discovered that it was still moving. Hence the lively riverdance-like routine we had witnessed. Apparently the dog then got in on things and confusion reigned. According to first hand accounts, the mouse had so many holes in it that it looked like it had been the victim of a mob hit with a machine gun.
The woman retreated to bed, leaving the cat to finish off the poor, suffering mouse. The morning light revealed a scene of bloody carnage in the front hall but no sign of a body. This could prove most interesting as the cat has a habit of consuming the top half of the victim and presenting the bottom half as a gift. It looks like a pair of small furry pants with tiny feet and a long tail. Utterly revolting. The cat may be saving it for later presentation, which would be ideal, as another group of humans are coming over to dine this evening. One can only imagine the chaos as fifty percent of a mouse is discovered under the tree or in a gift bag! The cat is saying nothing but is looking even more smug than ever. I will keep everyone updated, but our hopes are high of having another piece of high drama played out for our benefit.
Wishing everyone of you a very happy holiday. I wish you could all be here with me to share in the festive season (not the snow and cold part, of course). There would be hot mashes for all, dry twigs to chew on and lots of those mint sticks. We would finish off the festivities with a rousing game of pin-the-tail-on-the-woman. Joy to the world!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Old Friends and Dignified Seasonal Greetings
One of the best things about this season is that old friends come to visit (one of the worst is having to dress up). Two female humans appeared yesterday to see me (although they were polite and spent some time in the house with our humans). I've known these two visiting humans all my life and was anxious to introduce them to Jack.
Jack was a bit worried at first - he feels that any stranger could be a potential abductor or abuser or axe murderer but when he saw how donkey-friendly they were, he relaxed and unpursed his lips. Mary Jane understood how worried Jack was so she crouched down at floor level and stayed very still. He grew much more comfortable and tried to climb in her lap. She is an extremely polite human and let us choose which brushes we liked and said many, many complimentary things about our appearance, intelligence, bravery, furriness etc. "Sheaffer, you're growing even more handsome with age and your tail is magnificently full", she said "and honestly, I don't know why anyone would say you're too full-figured - you're in peak condition." I draped myself over her shoulder and breathed heavily.
Mary Jane even managed to remove the dried food from Jack's beard. He becomes so literally wrapped up in his hot gruel that some of it ends up welded under his chin. He grows impatient with our woman and stomps off after only a few crumbs have been removed. Although it was bone-chillingly cold in the barn, Mary Jane stayed crouched down and gently worked away till his beard was nearly food-free. Meanwhile, Janet, the other visitor, held the ends of my ears to warm them up. Beard cleaning and ear warming; it was a most excellent, civilized, visit and we look forward to seeing them again soon.
The woman relented on the decorating front and has installed a low-key, yet festive, banner on our stall. I fervently hope we don't have to wear it at some point. You never know around here. She chopped up some apple pieces very fine so Jack wouldn't choke and put them in a bowl. Then the male human held them for us to eat while she took photos. They call it a photo-op but it is actually a thinly disguised bribe. We allowed ourselves to be bribed.
Jack was a bit worried at first - he feels that any stranger could be a potential abductor or abuser or axe murderer but when he saw how donkey-friendly they were, he relaxed and unpursed his lips. Mary Jane understood how worried Jack was so she crouched down at floor level and stayed very still. He grew much more comfortable and tried to climb in her lap. She is an extremely polite human and let us choose which brushes we liked and said many, many complimentary things about our appearance, intelligence, bravery, furriness etc. "Sheaffer, you're growing even more handsome with age and your tail is magnificently full", she said "and honestly, I don't know why anyone would say you're too full-figured - you're in peak condition." I draped myself over her shoulder and breathed heavily.
Mary Jane even managed to remove the dried food from Jack's beard. He becomes so literally wrapped up in his hot gruel that some of it ends up welded under his chin. He grows impatient with our woman and stomps off after only a few crumbs have been removed. Although it was bone-chillingly cold in the barn, Mary Jane stayed crouched down and gently worked away till his beard was nearly food-free. Meanwhile, Janet, the other visitor, held the ends of my ears to warm them up. Beard cleaning and ear warming; it was a most excellent, civilized, visit and we look forward to seeing them again soon.
The woman relented on the decorating front and has installed a low-key, yet festive, banner on our stall. I fervently hope we don't have to wear it at some point. You never know around here. She chopped up some apple pieces very fine so Jack wouldn't choke and put them in a bowl. Then the male human held them for us to eat while she took photos. They call it a photo-op but it is actually a thinly disguised bribe. We allowed ourselves to be bribed.
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