We were foraging weakly for sustenance on our barren side of the stinging wire this morning when an amazing conveyance began beeping it's way down the driveway backwards. It was enormous and had an array of pipes and hoses draped all over it. It also had an intriguing aroma wafting from it's very core. We were enthralled and flocked to the fence to see (and smell) what would happen next.
Two male humans jumped down and began conversing with the woman. Then they went around the back of the house and began sticking a metal rod in the ground at about one foot intervals. We rushed to that area of the fence and leaned closer. They must have found what they were looking for because then they began to dig like two very efficient badgers. They dragged out a slab of something rock-like and peered into the depths.
By now I was nearly beside myself with curiosity and began to call to them plaintively to let me out so I could peer into the abyss. They misunderstood completely and simply laughed in an amused fashion. "Are you sure you're a donkey, little buddy, you look more like a beer keg on sticks!" they said. The nerve! And then Jack said something absolutely incredible. "Don't worry, it's just them guys what vacuums out the skeptic tank" The sceptics? They're kept in underground chambers? How utterly confusing - and disturbing. Why have I never heard of this bizarre practice?
They then dragged over an enormous hose which they stuck in the underground chamber and the vehicle began panting and roaring heavily. The air was redolent of - I'm not sure what, but it was certainly powerful and pungent enough to make our eyes water. When satisfied with their work, they replaced the slab and covered it back up with earth.
The woman seemed quite pleased with all of this and actually remunerated them for their services. I simply don't know what to make of it. Just one more thing to worry about, I suppose.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Criminal Activity at Our Barn
My writing machine has been repaired but I find it a tad jumpy since it's fit of the vapours or whatever it was it had. We had a wonderful typewriting machine that dated from before the second great war - the kind that requires massive amounts of force to print a letter on the page. It was a solid, no-nonsense machine that never broke down. Of course herself had to give it to one of the younger relatives as a family heirloom.
The crime spree began yesterday when all the mats in our run-in disappeared. The woman did a preliminary search but failed to turn up anything mat-like. She sighed and carried on with cleaning our rooms. After lunch she returned and discovered the electric water boiling device and the radio box with the voices in it had also disappeared. She began to become quite alarmed and wondered out loud if we had had burglers with a fixation on small appliances.
She questioned the male human but he claimed to be unaware of the strange goings-on. Back to the paddock she came, scratching her dishevelled coiffure. She began exploring further afield in the paddock and discovered the mats piled up against the fence, out of view. The water boiling device was discovered in the shrubbery and the box of voices was dangling from a low tree branch. Herself was utterly perplexed.
She trudged back to the barn to top up our bedding and to replace the devices on the tack room window sill. There was a rustling sound and there was Molly, pushing up the window so she could access the newly repositioned devices. "Ahaaa!" said the woman, "I should have known! " With that she slammed the window shut and engaged the locking mechanism. Of course we equines knew all about the mysterious crime spree but remained silent in a show of solidarity.
What the woman doesn't know is that Molly is so resentful of having the stinging wire cutting us off from the lushest grass that she has launched a campaign of sabotage against Herself. She plans to have the woman completely unhinged by midsummer. So far so good. The battle rages on, with Molly claiming to be proud of her new title of "Pony Kleptomaniac" or "Ponyiac" for short. You simply can't shame someone who is shameless. I await the next installment with greatest interest. Guerrilla warfare has a bright side after all.
The crime spree began yesterday when all the mats in our run-in disappeared. The woman did a preliminary search but failed to turn up anything mat-like. She sighed and carried on with cleaning our rooms. After lunch she returned and discovered the electric water boiling device and the radio box with the voices in it had also disappeared. She began to become quite alarmed and wondered out loud if we had had burglers with a fixation on small appliances.
She questioned the male human but he claimed to be unaware of the strange goings-on. Back to the paddock she came, scratching her dishevelled coiffure. She began exploring further afield in the paddock and discovered the mats piled up against the fence, out of view. The water boiling device was discovered in the shrubbery and the box of voices was dangling from a low tree branch. Herself was utterly perplexed.
She trudged back to the barn to top up our bedding and to replace the devices on the tack room window sill. There was a rustling sound and there was Molly, pushing up the window so she could access the newly repositioned devices. "Ahaaa!" said the woman, "I should have known! " With that she slammed the window shut and engaged the locking mechanism. Of course we equines knew all about the mysterious crime spree but remained silent in a show of solidarity.
What the woman doesn't know is that Molly is so resentful of having the stinging wire cutting us off from the lushest grass that she has launched a campaign of sabotage against Herself. She plans to have the woman completely unhinged by midsummer. So far so good. The battle rages on, with Molly claiming to be proud of her new title of "Pony Kleptomaniac" or "Ponyiac" for short. You simply can't shame someone who is shameless. I await the next installment with greatest interest. Guerrilla warfare has a bright side after all.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Sally Steps Out Of Her Shell
It's been a busy week around here for the resident felines. Of course, when it isn't raining the weather is conducive to all sorts of activities - Jack and I have been sun and dust bathing and sampling anything new and green that pops up. The two cats, on the other paw, have been busy with more nefarious pursuits.
Some poor, deluded thrush or finch or something or other has built a nest in the corner of the porch, only to have become a source of never-ending scrutiny and entertainment for Violet. Though she pretends her interest is of the friendly, scientific variety, her eyes are narrow and her tail quivery. She is shut in the house for periods of time so the bird can sit on the eggs but we can hear the outraged howls and yowls all the way out in our paddock. This does not auger well.
Sally and Penny have become great friends, in fact Sally is so impressed by Penny that she has decided she too is a dog. When the woman takes Penny for her morning constitutional down the farm lane, Sally trots behind, staring in wonder at her surroundings. Just to be on the safe side, and to appear large and fierce, she raises a mohawk of hair along her back and puffs out her tail for the whole trip. The other day the woman took the path that goes into the woods. Sally stopped at the entrance and stared in all directions, her mouth open in a perfect "O" shape. Then she carefully raised every hair on her small person, even the fur on the top of her head. Thus enlarged, she proceeded into the woods.
When Penny lies in the sun, Sally stretches out beside her, back to back, and when Penny has a snack from the tack room cupboard, Sally sits beside her and has one too. They both supervise all the gardening and Sally has become a keen participant. She football tackles plants and shrubs and has reduced some of the greenery to rubble. She particlularly likes a grassy-looking plant that smells of onions. Today the woman told her she smells of falafel - it should be spelled fal-awful, given the fumes emanating from Sally's beige coat. Being a very busy cat, her ablutions are more of a lick and a promise so it's a good thing she is mainly shades of dirt.
Today the woman climbed on Doc and then Molly and piloted them around the sand area. Strange, I know, but they all seem to enjoy it. The woman was working on some manoeuvre that involves stopping and then backing Molly up. Sally rushed up, threw herself upside down directly in front of Molly and grabbed her ankle, pretending to chew on it like a sabre toothed tiger. Molly, good natured soul that she is, waited patiently and finally reached down and nuzzled Sally. Sally rushed off in pursuit of an insect so the crisis was averted. Jack and I decided that the bits of grass growing in the sand area were highly desirable and the woman kept getting Doc and Molly to chase us out. I finally just lay down on what she calls the track and forced her to go around me while I napped. She keeps saying all the inhabitants of the forest put together aren't as disruptive as we are. I take that as a great compliment.
The wretched writing machine is still hospitalized so I can't show you any pictures but someone at my party took a video and apparently you may view it on something called YouTube if you type the words Sheaffer Donkey in the box marked search. I don't understand the musical accompaniment but it's pleasant nonetheless.
Some poor, deluded thrush or finch or something or other has built a nest in the corner of the porch, only to have become a source of never-ending scrutiny and entertainment for Violet. Though she pretends her interest is of the friendly, scientific variety, her eyes are narrow and her tail quivery. She is shut in the house for periods of time so the bird can sit on the eggs but we can hear the outraged howls and yowls all the way out in our paddock. This does not auger well.
Sally and Penny have become great friends, in fact Sally is so impressed by Penny that she has decided she too is a dog. When the woman takes Penny for her morning constitutional down the farm lane, Sally trots behind, staring in wonder at her surroundings. Just to be on the safe side, and to appear large and fierce, she raises a mohawk of hair along her back and puffs out her tail for the whole trip. The other day the woman took the path that goes into the woods. Sally stopped at the entrance and stared in all directions, her mouth open in a perfect "O" shape. Then she carefully raised every hair on her small person, even the fur on the top of her head. Thus enlarged, she proceeded into the woods.
When Penny lies in the sun, Sally stretches out beside her, back to back, and when Penny has a snack from the tack room cupboard, Sally sits beside her and has one too. They both supervise all the gardening and Sally has become a keen participant. She football tackles plants and shrubs and has reduced some of the greenery to rubble. She particlularly likes a grassy-looking plant that smells of onions. Today the woman told her she smells of falafel - it should be spelled fal-awful, given the fumes emanating from Sally's beige coat. Being a very busy cat, her ablutions are more of a lick and a promise so it's a good thing she is mainly shades of dirt.
Today the woman climbed on Doc and then Molly and piloted them around the sand area. Strange, I know, but they all seem to enjoy it. The woman was working on some manoeuvre that involves stopping and then backing Molly up. Sally rushed up, threw herself upside down directly in front of Molly and grabbed her ankle, pretending to chew on it like a sabre toothed tiger. Molly, good natured soul that she is, waited patiently and finally reached down and nuzzled Sally. Sally rushed off in pursuit of an insect so the crisis was averted. Jack and I decided that the bits of grass growing in the sand area were highly desirable and the woman kept getting Doc and Molly to chase us out. I finally just lay down on what she calls the track and forced her to go around me while I napped. She keeps saying all the inhabitants of the forest put together aren't as disruptive as we are. I take that as a great compliment.
The wretched writing machine is still hospitalized so I can't show you any pictures but someone at my party took a video and apparently you may view it on something called YouTube if you type the words Sheaffer Donkey in the box marked search. I don't understand the musical accompaniment but it's pleasant nonetheless.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I'm A Victim Of Technical Tyranny
The male human has lent us his electronic writing device during the evenings until my own is repaired. Good thing because mine has "fried it's Mother Board". I have heard of Mother Hubbard, Mother Nature, Mother Goose and Mother Earth but I have no idea who this Mother Board is. In any case, the writing device had a massive colic attack and fell into a comatose state. We are waiting to hear if medical/technical intervention may help.
Now, where was I. I think it best if I jot down random pictures of what I can remember of the day itself. Things really began to move at a frantic pace on Saturday when the woman went to pick up my cakes. The head baker came out and asked her if Sheaffer was her son because the staff had all been wondering about the unusual name. Unusual? I think not. She told them I was a miniture donkey who was celebrating a birthday and the baker bellowed to the others "It's not her kid, it's a DONKEY!" What extraordinary behaviour - I would never be so rude as to bellow at a group of fellow donkeys. "It's not her donkey it's a BAKER!" The cakes themselves were quite magnificent, one having a series of confectionery carrots on top and the other saying "Happy Birthday Sheaffer" and having a theme of musical notes and bars. She told them the Balloon, Noah's Ark and Alphabet Block themes were unacceptable. She baked a third cake herself that looked like two paving stones covered in mud - I'm sure she meant well. The coloured beads on top couldn't disguise the inherent architectural flaws, I'm afraid.
Saturday dawned sunny and fair and we left in a bustle of packing and last minute rushing about. On their part, not mine. Jack cried piteously and herself was so distraught she was only dissuaded with difficulty that he would settle once we were out of sight. She was ready to unload me and stay home. Jack's sitter checked on him shortly thereafter and he was grazing calmly with the horses. We rolled into the party site around 10am.
Such bustle I've never seen! People organizing baked goods, numbering items for auction and setting up tables and canopies and I don't know what else. I was escorted around the entire premises by two delightful young human ladies named Stephanie and Emily. Whenever I would politely suggest another avenue of exploration they would immediately turn in that direction. I met young Ben and Jerry and they were in prime party form - Jerry had put some sort of red glue in his hair as a festive note. Ben is more conservative and stuck with his grey flannel suit. I also met young Nacho and he is a fine lad who is in the process of becoming a large and imposing donkey. It was his first time away from home and he was exemplary. The humans behaved like an ant colony that has gotten into the coffee grounds - made my head spin.
Just after noon Sheila's metal box on wheels hove into view. Out stepped the venerable but undeniably attractive PrimRose, followed by Russel the mule who has gained a good three hundred pounds since arriving at Sheila's disguised as a skeleton. He looks wonderful, as you can see by the pictures. I confess, I was quite smitten by PrimRose and made gentlemanly overtures but alas I was spurned each time. These affairs of the heart are an emotional minefield.
I was then taken to my dressing room where the woman installed my crown (I say it's a tiara) - she says it's platinum with precious stones but I say it's a petroleum by-product, ie.plastic. She made me a purple velvet sash - she said it was velvet but I believe it to be velveteen - I know my fabrics. It was fastened at the front with my birthday award ribbon. All in all quite satisfactory.
The guests began arriving, refreshments appeared and from then on it was a social whirl. All of my guests were charming, witty and impeccably behaved. They brought me gifts of carrots and apples and stud muffins - most of which I have yet to see again. We donkeys (and Russel) mixed and mingled and tried to spend time with each guest. I was talking with CompleteCare, who posts on here, when it was announced the cakes were about to be cut. A chorus of "Happy Birthday" rose to the skies and Winsome Wendy escorted me over to the table where I inspected the three creations. I'll say no more about the third, smaller, mud slab. In deference to my fear of fire, the candles remained unlit. Winsome Wendy slipped me a taste of icing and it was much appreciated.
The hats in attendance were spectacular and the judges, Jacks senior and junior had their work cut out picking the winners. The human who posts for Bouncy Dog took first prize with a dazzling creation that featured not only a fruit motif but a picture of self on the front. CompleteCare took runner-up prize with an equally brilliant piece of hatmaking. It had all sorts of hay-like material stuck on it and also a garland of fresh cedar. It looked delicious.
By the time the festivities wound down, we had amassed a total of $1550.17 for the PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary. Staggering, considering our goal was $700.00! We were all elated, no one more so than Sheila, who can now replace the badly leaking roof on the implement shed. The afternoon ended with everyone feeling tired but exilharated.
I returned home to a warm welcome from all, especially Jack, who tried desperately to get the gate open when I was still halfway down the driveway. He checked me all over for damage and Doc and Molly inexplicably felt the need to wash me thoroughly. Somewhat unnerving but nice to know they care.
There were many humans involved in making this event happen, key amongst them Emi and Rob the humans who worked tirelessly organizing things, buying items and then running my party. Brenda and Jill who baked so many cookies and cupcakes and wrapped so many items. Cindy who used her professional skills to make the silent auction a roaring success and also ran the 50/50 draw. June, who managed to partition baked things in pans with the use of only a plastic knife. Margaret and Lauren who served birthday cake tirelessly and of course Shayla, who helped everyone with everything throughout. Vartkes was my official lensman and will be forwarding an album of photos any time now. And of course many heartfelt thanks to those near and far who donated monies and baking and items for the silent auction.
I know I am forgetting some names but herself has a limited attention span and her brain is beginning to emit a buzzing sound. And so I will sign off for now but the memory of that day will live on. There is already talk of doing it again next year. My sash is neatly folded and my crown polished.
Now, where was I. I think it best if I jot down random pictures of what I can remember of the day itself. Things really began to move at a frantic pace on Saturday when the woman went to pick up my cakes. The head baker came out and asked her if Sheaffer was her son because the staff had all been wondering about the unusual name. Unusual? I think not. She told them I was a miniture donkey who was celebrating a birthday and the baker bellowed to the others "It's not her kid, it's a DONKEY!" What extraordinary behaviour - I would never be so rude as to bellow at a group of fellow donkeys. "It's not her donkey it's a BAKER!" The cakes themselves were quite magnificent, one having a series of confectionery carrots on top and the other saying "Happy Birthday Sheaffer" and having a theme of musical notes and bars. She told them the Balloon, Noah's Ark and Alphabet Block themes were unacceptable. She baked a third cake herself that looked like two paving stones covered in mud - I'm sure she meant well. The coloured beads on top couldn't disguise the inherent architectural flaws, I'm afraid.
Saturday dawned sunny and fair and we left in a bustle of packing and last minute rushing about. On their part, not mine. Jack cried piteously and herself was so distraught she was only dissuaded with difficulty that he would settle once we were out of sight. She was ready to unload me and stay home. Jack's sitter checked on him shortly thereafter and he was grazing calmly with the horses. We rolled into the party site around 10am.
Such bustle I've never seen! People organizing baked goods, numbering items for auction and setting up tables and canopies and I don't know what else. I was escorted around the entire premises by two delightful young human ladies named Stephanie and Emily. Whenever I would politely suggest another avenue of exploration they would immediately turn in that direction. I met young Ben and Jerry and they were in prime party form - Jerry had put some sort of red glue in his hair as a festive note. Ben is more conservative and stuck with his grey flannel suit. I also met young Nacho and he is a fine lad who is in the process of becoming a large and imposing donkey. It was his first time away from home and he was exemplary. The humans behaved like an ant colony that has gotten into the coffee grounds - made my head spin.
Just after noon Sheila's metal box on wheels hove into view. Out stepped the venerable but undeniably attractive PrimRose, followed by Russel the mule who has gained a good three hundred pounds since arriving at Sheila's disguised as a skeleton. He looks wonderful, as you can see by the pictures. I confess, I was quite smitten by PrimRose and made gentlemanly overtures but alas I was spurned each time. These affairs of the heart are an emotional minefield.
I was then taken to my dressing room where the woman installed my crown (I say it's a tiara) - she says it's platinum with precious stones but I say it's a petroleum by-product, ie.plastic. She made me a purple velvet sash - she said it was velvet but I believe it to be velveteen - I know my fabrics. It was fastened at the front with my birthday award ribbon. All in all quite satisfactory.
The guests began arriving, refreshments appeared and from then on it was a social whirl. All of my guests were charming, witty and impeccably behaved. They brought me gifts of carrots and apples and stud muffins - most of which I have yet to see again. We donkeys (and Russel) mixed and mingled and tried to spend time with each guest. I was talking with CompleteCare, who posts on here, when it was announced the cakes were about to be cut. A chorus of "Happy Birthday" rose to the skies and Winsome Wendy escorted me over to the table where I inspected the three creations. I'll say no more about the third, smaller, mud slab. In deference to my fear of fire, the candles remained unlit. Winsome Wendy slipped me a taste of icing and it was much appreciated.
The hats in attendance were spectacular and the judges, Jacks senior and junior had their work cut out picking the winners. The human who posts for Bouncy Dog took first prize with a dazzling creation that featured not only a fruit motif but a picture of self on the front. CompleteCare took runner-up prize with an equally brilliant piece of hatmaking. It had all sorts of hay-like material stuck on it and also a garland of fresh cedar. It looked delicious.
By the time the festivities wound down, we had amassed a total of $1550.17 for the PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary. Staggering, considering our goal was $700.00! We were all elated, no one more so than Sheila, who can now replace the badly leaking roof on the implement shed. The afternoon ended with everyone feeling tired but exilharated.
I returned home to a warm welcome from all, especially Jack, who tried desperately to get the gate open when I was still halfway down the driveway. He checked me all over for damage and Doc and Molly inexplicably felt the need to wash me thoroughly. Somewhat unnerving but nice to know they care.
There were many humans involved in making this event happen, key amongst them Emi and Rob the humans who worked tirelessly organizing things, buying items and then running my party. Brenda and Jill who baked so many cookies and cupcakes and wrapped so many items. Cindy who used her professional skills to make the silent auction a roaring success and also ran the 50/50 draw. June, who managed to partition baked things in pans with the use of only a plastic knife. Margaret and Lauren who served birthday cake tirelessly and of course Shayla, who helped everyone with everything throughout. Vartkes was my official lensman and will be forwarding an album of photos any time now. And of course many heartfelt thanks to those near and far who donated monies and baking and items for the silent auction.
I know I am forgetting some names but herself has a limited attention span and her brain is beginning to emit a buzzing sound. And so I will sign off for now but the memory of that day will live on. There is already talk of doing it again next year. My sash is neatly folded and my crown polished.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My Parchment Blew Up!
Just a hasty note from the repair shop -the dreaded electronic device has blown up or thrown a shoe or something. It's fairly dead. My apologies - if she listened to me and wrote by hand like a civilized person this wouldn't have happened. It's going to the electronics hospital and heaven knows when it will return...soon I hope, I have much to tell you.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Now THAT Was a Party!
I'm late getting my preliminary report out because the woman is still in what she calls "recovery mode". Odd, as I was the one doing all the work. She says the nervous tics will go away eventually and the overall tendency of the landscape to oscillate slightly will fade. Honestly, she needs to be made of sterner stuff, like a donkey.
The weather couldn't have been better, my outfit was dignified (purple sash, crown- I still say it was a tiara but we won't quibble -and low-key blue ribbon). We had a large turnout and the donations for the silent auction and bake sale tables were staggering. Cake was consumed, lemon squash drunk, tea served in styrofoam cups (I had ordered bone china), and the music was classical.
I met long-time blog friends who had come from afar and they were even more wonderful in person (if that's possible). CompleteCare, human to Willy donkey and his mother Roberta, Uncle Ed, Winsome Wendy and the kind human who is caretaker to the equine crew. I spent a lot of time visiting with them and they are donkey supporters to their very core. Not a word about cellulite or bad haircuts. Just sheer graciousness and civility.
There were sixty items in the silent auction and Tuffy ruled triumphant at the centre of the table. Human Brenda did up a very fine box and wrapping for Tuffy and his egg and he peered out regally from his throne. Bidding was furious and he's gone home with a very nice lady to run her life.
I have so much to tell you and I will write more later but my main news is that we raised $1,550.17 for PrimRose so far with some cheques still to come. Sheila was so happy she was nearly speechless. It's so much more than we expected that she can now get a new roof on the shed at the end of the barn that houses all sorts of important things. I think she needs one as it snowed two feet worth on the inside last winter.
Thank you everyone. This was such an outpouring of donations and goodwill that it helps to redress the balance for donkeys like Theodore. As Jack said "Yuh done good. Now jest stop tarryhootin all over and stay home where ya belong."
Pics to follow.
The weather couldn't have been better, my outfit was dignified (purple sash, crown- I still say it was a tiara but we won't quibble -and low-key blue ribbon). We had a large turnout and the donations for the silent auction and bake sale tables were staggering. Cake was consumed, lemon squash drunk, tea served in styrofoam cups (I had ordered bone china), and the music was classical.
I met long-time blog friends who had come from afar and they were even more wonderful in person (if that's possible). CompleteCare, human to Willy donkey and his mother Roberta, Uncle Ed, Winsome Wendy and the kind human who is caretaker to the equine crew. I spent a lot of time visiting with them and they are donkey supporters to their very core. Not a word about cellulite or bad haircuts. Just sheer graciousness and civility.
There were sixty items in the silent auction and Tuffy ruled triumphant at the centre of the table. Human Brenda did up a very fine box and wrapping for Tuffy and his egg and he peered out regally from his throne. Bidding was furious and he's gone home with a very nice lady to run her life.
I have so much to tell you and I will write more later but my main news is that we raised $1,550.17 for PrimRose so far with some cheques still to come. Sheila was so happy she was nearly speechless. It's so much more than we expected that she can now get a new roof on the shed at the end of the barn that houses all sorts of important things. I think she needs one as it snowed two feet worth on the inside last winter.
Thank you everyone. This was such an outpouring of donations and goodwill that it helps to redress the balance for donkeys like Theodore. As Jack said "Yuh done good. Now jest stop tarryhootin all over and stay home where ya belong."
Pics to follow.
Friday, May 22, 2009
PrimRose Address
Here is the link for Sheila's sanctuary if you would care to visit. www.primrosedonkeysanctuary.com
Her address, should you wish to visit her sanctuary personally (or perhaps wish to send a donation) is:
PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary
1296 Bowmanton Road - RR 4
Roseneath, ON
KOK 2GO
Phone number is: 905 352 2772
Her address, should you wish to visit her sanctuary personally (or perhaps wish to send a donation) is:
PrimRose Donkey Sanctuary
1296 Bowmanton Road - RR 4
Roseneath, ON
KOK 2GO
Phone number is: 905 352 2772
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