There Ought to be A Law

Surely this sort of weather is illegal? And if so, why isn't someone overhauling the legal system? They finally came to their senses and closed down the gulags in Siberia, but here I am, stuck between a snowbank and and ice patch. The sun is only present in a token sort of way, not enough heat to warm the cockles of a donkey's heart, let alone his ears.

This morning I was immersed in a complicated dream about spring grass and trespassing moose when the lights in our barn flicked on and a hideous face shoved itself into mine. "Sheabber", it said "id timbe to ged ub". The face was blotchy and it had beady, bloodshot eyes and a reddened nose. On it's head was a strange, bulky shape with flaps and fasteners. My heart rate soared as I prepared to flee the invading sasquatch but it proved to be the woman wearing her new hat and suffering from what Jack calls "the grippe". She coughed at me in a phlegmy sort of way and undid my stall guard, saying. "Oud you go, and doand dri to sneag bagh in while Ib pudding oud your hay". Sneak past that? I hardly think so.

Doc is having other winter woes, caused by our windows being completely frosted over with a thick layer of rime. He has a large window in his room that overlooks the house and driveway and he checks it regularly to make sure our territory is safe. Imagine his dismay when he wasn't able to complete his usual security check. He left his hay untouched and called the woman over. She thought he might be ill and felt his ears and feet and fussed over him but he just kept turning back to the window.

She finally figured out the problem and, hacking and wheezing away, used the plastic rectangle upon which our treats are prepared to scrape his window clear. He knew exactly what she was doing and helpfully kept his chin on her shoulder the whole while. When she was done he heaved a deep sigh, nudged her arm in thanks and gave a long surveillance stare outside. She has now purchased an automotive ice remover for exclusive use on Doc's window.

Happy New Year, My Friends!

It seems I blinked once or twice and a new year crept up like Herself with a tube of vermifuge concealed behind her back. Jack tells me the years have a nasty habit of accelerating until they leave you spent and gasping for breath, wondering what the blur was; it was in fact another twelve months sprinting past.

I am still recovering from the substitution of my old, round, floor model feeder for a new, square, black one that hangs on the stall partition. It was a Christmas gift from the male human. He meant well, I'm sure, but forgot to take into consideration my loathing of any drastic changes within my usual environment. The first evening was the worst and I shook and snorted in the corner for ages. The woman showed me the bribes she had loaded into it but still it filled me with a terrible sense of foreboding. Five days later I am dining from it but keeping my senses on high alert in case it should suddenly, as Doc says. "go todally mental". You just never know.

The woman has grown concerned over Sally's increasing girth and has concocted a fiendish scheme to help her grow fit. Actually, the get- fit scheme arrived in the form of a feline Christmas present. It looks like a small writing instrument but instead of ink, it projects a dot of red light. Sally was initially and understandably shocked at the appearance of this alien beam and said "Pfffffftttt, Rrrrrrrr, Eeeeeeowwww" in her small but firm voice. Then she began to try to capture the intruder and the woman managed to get her up to speed and puffing in a short time. A few days have elapsed and now Sally has become rather blase about the whole thing, indicating that she would rather lie in her cozy igloo and occasionally pat at the dot in a desultory fashion. I'll let you know how it progresses from here - possibly the woman chasing the red dot for Sally's entertainment. And mine, of course.

In the house, the dismantling of the tree and it's accoutrements has taken place and Violet is very forlorn indeed. She rushed downstairs at the first sound of an ornament being plucked from a branch and complained bitterly the whole while. When the tree was finally stripped of it's finery, Violet lay underneath with her arms around the trunk, looking for all the world like a protester making a last stand; to no avail, however, and tonight she has retreated into Penny's dog bed in a blue funk (what's that? oh, yes, Penny was still in it).

Wishing you the best of everything in the coming year - free from vermifuge and needles and full of superior foodstuffs, soft beds and lots of sunshine.

Merry Christmas to All!

My dear friends of all species, we wish you the very best of everything on this cold winter's day. May your feed bowls brim with stud muffins and horse cookies and everything else that is bad for the waistline and good for the morale.

Herself has NOT yet baked us those wonderful cookies for which Billie has sent the recipe. We did have a lovely hot dinner with carrots, apples, mints and stud muffins. The portions were rather Scrooge-ish, but nevermind. With a howling wind blowing sideways into our ears and under our tails, we were very glad to get into our rooms.

Sally has received a bizarre toy on springs that attaches to the wall with small suction cups. It has feathered spheres on which she practices her torture techniques by the hour. So far she has not extracted any information from it. She and Violet both received bags of cat treats that strike me as rather revolting but then again I'm strictly vegetarian and something called "Mighty Meaty Kitty Bitties" do not strike a culinary chord with me.

She's rushing off again on turkey duty and has told me to keep it short- tchhhah.

Please let me know how you spent your day and what you received from the man in red. I hope it was delicious.

The Festive Season Closes In

I've been extremely busy with various things - organizing protests against the despicable hay racks, scanning the horizon for predators and of course supervising mail delivery in case there is something for me that Herself commandeers. Christmas has used the opportunity to sneak up and ambush me while I was looking the other way.

I realized this morning how close we are to the actual event when Herself sidled up to me with some garish, shiny objects and tried to drape them on my person. I let out a mighty trumpet and bolted. She's not getting near me with that revolting frippery this year. I endured pseudo antlers last year and have put my hoof down firmly when it comes to further personal decoration. Jack didn't twitch an ear or bat an eye when she installed it around his neck and thus he became this year's purveyor of Christmas greetings. He balked at raising his nose out of his morning hay but happily stood draped in the tacky festive trappings. "long as i don got to stop eatin, she kin hang prit near anythin on me. needles is a diffren story. none a them and none a that worm poison they trie ta choke me with."

He's feeling a tad huffy on the vermifuge front. Testing revealed he (and thus we) needed vermifuge for a specific parasite and the Tall Woman was pressed into service to administer Jack's dosage. They had a tremendous "rasslin" match and he did manage to cause her head to connect with the corner of a light box, making a dent (in her head - the light box is fine) and even drawing blood but she got the stuff into him eventually. Then she made him stand quietly without trying to head-butt her, so he's still rather resentful. But I digress.

The woman put the festive nonsense on Doc and asked Molly if she wanted a turn but Molly turned her down flat. Sally posed on the fence with the the sleazy baubles and then gave them a thorough thrashing. No wonder I'm so fond of cats. They know bad taste when they see it and act accordingly.

Here are some photos of the festive nonsense. Penny opened one of her gifts early - I'm not sure what it is but it's of purplish hue and has various appendages. She loves it and I've included some action shots of her. Violet is working on stripping the tree they put in the house and is de-peopleing the manger scene, replacing figures with her felt mice. Unfortunately there is no photographic evidence - yet.

The Latest Outrage Chez Nous

After a three day winter gale last week left us nearly expired from exposure (even in the run-in), the weather has turned somewhat milder. Unfortunately, that three days was crucial to our comfort in more than one way.

When the weather outside is frightful, Herself takes a small degree of pity on us and puts our hay in three piles on the mats in the run-in. What happens then is that Doc decides Molly's pile is somehow superior and chases her away, she chases Jack and self away from our pile and we move on to Doc's, whereupon the whole process begins anew. This causes the hay to be lavishly strewn throughout the entire run-in. Once this happens, we four equids find it quite unpalatable - what with the foot odour, mud particles and other debris now mixed in with our meal. We then begin a chorus at the barn door which goes something like, "Woman, we need more food, this tastes funny, fresh hay please, we need it right now, did we mention this tastes funny etc.".

The outcome was inevitable, I suppose... One day she glared at us and said, "I know how to stop this nonsense." Oh? Starvation is now nonsense? Anyway, back she came with the male human, each of them carting these strange black metal barred affairs. They proceeded, with our close supervision, to fasten these things to the walls of the run-in. The contraptions looked quite artistic and we admired them in detail. Then...oh moment of horror. Cackling in a crazed fashion, Herself began inserting our hay in there. Yes! These odious objects are hay dispensers!

We hate the blasted things. In fact, we boycotted them until we were faint from hunger - at least fifteen minutes, if not longer. We stamped and called to her but her heart remained stony cold. Doc then tried to wrench the things from the walls but to no avail.

So dear readers, that is the sorry state of affairs at our place. We are forced to pull one meagre mouthful of hay at a time from between the prison bars. Can you believe it? At this time of celebration and festive feasting, we are relegated to working like slaves for our pittance. She bought us one of those huge striped peppermint canes as a peace offering and smashed it up, mixing it into our hot meal. Tasty, but not enough to make amends for putting our hay in wall prisons.

A Most Peculiar Gift - I Think I May Actually Like It

Imagine my surprise when I checked my correspondence and found a gift from Bouncy Dog -he made it himself and I thought my friends might enjoy viewing it. I hardly know what to think; it is the height of frivolity but it does show me in a rather attractive slim and trim mode. The name Fred Astaire has even cropped up.

Jack loves it and says he has attended many of these events in his youth. Molly likes anything that features her hairy visage and Doc says it's just missing a bar. How TJ got in there, I do not know. He certainly wasn't invited but that's never stopped him before.

Here it is: http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/M0PDY7OCXY5OsqDJbecA

A Festive Update Times Two

Last week the woman strong armed Violet into the portable cat prison and hauled her off to the vet, howling and screaming, for her annual stabbing with needles. They both returned looking hot and flustered; Violet has been shunning Herself ever since. Can't say I blame her.

While they were there the woman received an update on the two tiny kittens who were thrown into the ditch at the end of our drive a year ago. Some of you may remember that it took much searching in a blizzard but the brothers were found, starving, flea-ridden and terrified. The magnificent Alison, who works at the vet clinic, found them homes with a couple of humans who had just lost their ancient and beloved cat brothers.

Well, a year later the young brothers are running (ruling actually) the household with an iron paw. They have grown into magnificent feline specimens and lead a life of luxury and leisure. They remain devoted to each other and are never to be found far apart. They were a whisker away from dying of exposure in a dark and hostile environment because a human decided they were worthless and tossed them out of a moving vehicle. Thanks to the powers that run the universe, there are other humans like Alison.

Alison has sent me some photos of the boys at home. I thought it would be a fitting start to the festive season to share them with you.