Herself is adhament that whatever the weather we must go out to receive the benefits of fresh air and exercise. Yes, I know we have a run-in, but nevertheless the temperatures are such that our breath nearly freezes mid-air and falls to the ground before we have taken the next breath. If Dante's Inferno can be frozen, then we are living in it.
We were lined up at the door this afternoon, listening carefully to the sounds of our dinners being cooked within, when a terrible thumping and crashing burst forth. The woman seemed to be moving large pieces of furniture and exhorting Sally on to greater efforts in...well in what undertaking we didn't exactly know. Finally the woman appeared at the door, out of breath and blotchy of visage. Sally was sitting in the doorway of the tack room, doing some heavy breathing herself.
We filed in in the usual order and got down to the serious business of calorie intake. The woman was busy allocating our hay pittance when she suddenly rose straight up in the air and said "Wahhhh yerrrrgh waugggh"! I assumed she had suddenly begun speaking in tongues - something entirely possible around here - and carried on with ferreting out the peppermint and apple bits in my dinner (more molecular size than actual bits, you understand).
Sally was in the process of standing up and this revealed a rather plump mouse, upon which she had been sitting. It was said rodent's tail that the woman had observed moving as it stuck out of Sally's fur on one side. The mouse took a deep breath, shook himself and stalked off in an offended manner, no doubt to continue his predations on whatever he had been working over when he was rudely interrupted by a gigantic, furry posterior squashing him to the floor.
The woman became even more animated, imploring Sally to chase the escaping criminal but Sally merely watched her with great interest, waiting to see what new gyrations might be forthcoming. Sally then yawned, stretched, and went to the shelf where her Kitty Temptation Treats are stored. "Mmmmmm mmmmmeow?" she said. Which means, treats, please, in feline.
This caused the woman to become quite indignant and to trot out her old lecture about her being the only one doing any work around here. Completely unfair, of course, as Sally had caught the mouse just as the woman had demanded. Surely it was up to Herself to take over once he had been released from Sally's ingenius holding technique.
There's simply no pleasing some people. I speak from experience.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
And So Begins The Seasonal Insanity
Picture this. A small grey donkey, on an icy grey day, staring into the grey distance, chewing thoughtfully on some insufficient forage. The snow is accumulating, the winter looming long and cold before him. He sighs and retreats to warm thoughts of spring fund raisers and days of lying on the hot sand, baking himself to perfection.
Suddenly, a hideous visage appears not two inches from his and a terrible screeching assaults his sensitive ears: "I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS...ONLY A HIPPOPOTAMUS WILL DOOOOOOOO..." After the initial shock, I fled into the trees, the odious lyrics and caterwauling still ringing through hill and dale. "I DON'T WANT RHINOCEROSES, ALL I WANT'S A HIPPOPOTAMUS". Why? Why would she want a large, river-dwelling denizen of darkest Africa to appear under the festive tree? Why? And why the prejudice against the perfectly inoffensive rhinoceros? It made absolutely no sense, even by her standards.
"That's it",I said to Jack, "the apocalypse is upon us, the harpies are announcing it's immenent arrival. Save yourself if you can." He gave me a strange look and carried on eating. The Woman herself looked somewhat surprised and had the good grace to wonder out loud how the frightful verses had become lodged in her tiny brain. I can only conclude that it is a result of listening to the all-Christmas-all-the-time station on the radio box. She promised not do it again but no more than five minutes later was warbling "Saaaaaanta Claus is comin ta townnnnn"along with some faceless entity called "The Boss". She is posessed. I recommend her immediate removal to what Jack calls "the loony bin". They have the training and skills to deal with this sort of thing.
I don't know. The season is just beginning and my nerves are already in tatters. Next comes the seasonal headgear and red bows everywhere. Then there is the terrible fight with the tree that they insist on dragging into the house. My only faint hope is that the male human remembers our bucket of Stud Muffins. These are hard times indeed, my friends, hard times.
Suddenly, a hideous visage appears not two inches from his and a terrible screeching assaults his sensitive ears: "I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS...ONLY A HIPPOPOTAMUS WILL DOOOOOOOO..." After the initial shock, I fled into the trees, the odious lyrics and caterwauling still ringing through hill and dale. "I DON'T WANT RHINOCEROSES, ALL I WANT'S A HIPPOPOTAMUS". Why? Why would she want a large, river-dwelling denizen of darkest Africa to appear under the festive tree? Why? And why the prejudice against the perfectly inoffensive rhinoceros? It made absolutely no sense, even by her standards.
"That's it",I said to Jack, "the apocalypse is upon us, the harpies are announcing it's immenent arrival. Save yourself if you can." He gave me a strange look and carried on eating. The Woman herself looked somewhat surprised and had the good grace to wonder out loud how the frightful verses had become lodged in her tiny brain. I can only conclude that it is a result of listening to the all-Christmas-all-the-time station on the radio box. She promised not do it again but no more than five minutes later was warbling "Saaaaaanta Claus is comin ta townnnnn"along with some faceless entity called "The Boss". She is posessed. I recommend her immediate removal to what Jack calls "the loony bin". They have the training and skills to deal with this sort of thing.
I don't know. The season is just beginning and my nerves are already in tatters. Next comes the seasonal headgear and red bows everywhere. Then there is the terrible fight with the tree that they insist on dragging into the house. My only faint hope is that the male human remembers our bucket of Stud Muffins. These are hard times indeed, my friends, hard times.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A Good News/Bad News Report
It's windy and snowing - that is always bad news. Apart from that I have information on the Foot Sore Five who were rescued and as is often the case, the reports are mixed.
Juliette, the quite charming pony, had her first foot trim and was discovered to have one very twisted back foot and leg. It was thought that with time this could be, if not fixed, at least made to be comfortable. Shortly afterwards, the vet performed a complete physical on her and the news was uniformly both bad and sad. Over the eleven years she had been incarcerated in the weedy paddock, her health had been severely compromised. She suffered from such extreme malnutrition that her teeth had rotted away and, in spite of a misshapen round belly, her health had been damaged beyond repair.
The vet felt that given the coming winter, coupled with Juliette's failing health, the kindest thing to do would be to help her slip off to be with Tabi and the others who reside on the other side. And so, because of one human's arrogance and ignorance, Juliette left us long before her time. I hope she has found peace and comfort. She knew unending love at the sanctuary for a short while and that must count for something...
Now, some good news. Lillian Llama has been adopted into a home that already houses a llama named Cinnamon and the two lady llamas have become inseperable. Lillian had her coat of burrs clipped off and the halter that was growing into her face removed. She is being pampered and cossetted and is loving every minute of her new life. There are some horses and an alpaca there as well and the two ladies can survey the scene and tut-tut to their heart's content while ingesting the best of everything.
Simon and O'Sullivan Donkey have both had dental care and the raw wounds on their tongues and the insides of their mouths (from years of pointy teeth rubbing) have begun to heal. They are both, after some fairly heated discussions, now wearing cozy winter blankets. They reluctantly agree it's much more comfortable than shivering away the calories they need to grow healthy. Simon arrived with a broken tail and spine damage but the vet feels that as he is young it will probably heal within the year. O'Sullivan's shocking feet are beginning to come around and may even approach a reasonable state of normal some day. He is standing and moving about much more these days. And now neither is dropping wads of food as they try to eat. In fact, Simon is doing his best to frolic, in spite of his handicap, and is being soundly told off by the much senior O'Sullivan.
Peter Donkey was found to have two abcesses and a huge crack across his bad foot. The farrier cleaned out the abcesses and allowed them to drain and packed the crevice with some medicinal material. Peter is feeling much more comfortable. Once again, his situation was completely preventable and was due solely to the shocking lack of care at the inhuman human's. I join the llama ladies in tut-tutting at the insanity of parts of the human race. And thank Sheila for trying to balance the damage they do.
Juliette, the quite charming pony, had her first foot trim and was discovered to have one very twisted back foot and leg. It was thought that with time this could be, if not fixed, at least made to be comfortable. Shortly afterwards, the vet performed a complete physical on her and the news was uniformly both bad and sad. Over the eleven years she had been incarcerated in the weedy paddock, her health had been severely compromised. She suffered from such extreme malnutrition that her teeth had rotted away and, in spite of a misshapen round belly, her health had been damaged beyond repair.
The vet felt that given the coming winter, coupled with Juliette's failing health, the kindest thing to do would be to help her slip off to be with Tabi and the others who reside on the other side. And so, because of one human's arrogance and ignorance, Juliette left us long before her time. I hope she has found peace and comfort. She knew unending love at the sanctuary for a short while and that must count for something...
Now, some good news. Lillian Llama has been adopted into a home that already houses a llama named Cinnamon and the two lady llamas have become inseperable. Lillian had her coat of burrs clipped off and the halter that was growing into her face removed. She is being pampered and cossetted and is loving every minute of her new life. There are some horses and an alpaca there as well and the two ladies can survey the scene and tut-tut to their heart's content while ingesting the best of everything.
Simon and O'Sullivan Donkey have both had dental care and the raw wounds on their tongues and the insides of their mouths (from years of pointy teeth rubbing) have begun to heal. They are both, after some fairly heated discussions, now wearing cozy winter blankets. They reluctantly agree it's much more comfortable than shivering away the calories they need to grow healthy. Simon arrived with a broken tail and spine damage but the vet feels that as he is young it will probably heal within the year. O'Sullivan's shocking feet are beginning to come around and may even approach a reasonable state of normal some day. He is standing and moving about much more these days. And now neither is dropping wads of food as they try to eat. In fact, Simon is doing his best to frolic, in spite of his handicap, and is being soundly told off by the much senior O'Sullivan.
Peter Donkey was found to have two abcesses and a huge crack across his bad foot. The farrier cleaned out the abcesses and allowed them to drain and packed the crevice with some medicinal material. Peter is feeling much more comfortable. Once again, his situation was completely preventable and was due solely to the shocking lack of care at the inhuman human's. I join the llama ladies in tut-tutting at the insanity of parts of the human race. And thank Sheila for trying to balance the damage they do.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Our Respite Is Over
Yes, it's true. Herself has bustled back into town, undoing all the zen-like goodness that the last week with Jamie has wrought. I can only assume she was unceremoniously escorted over the border after annihilating their food reserves for the next year.
I did hear that she was harassed regarding the importation of a plum pudding (with hard sauce) on her voyage over but of course she had her way and it was finally delivered to the American cousins along with a jar of chutney. I suppose the authorities thought the pudding was some sort of incendiary device disguised as a curling stone. They professed themselves highly perplexed that anyone would consider the object a fit ending to a celebratory meal.
And what, pray tell, did she bring us? Hah! NOT. ONE. THING. I should mention that amongst other activities she visited the Peabody Essex Museum in the venerable town of Salem and returned with various items from the gift shop. I had hoped for a small souvenir of the place - perhaps a replica of a cudgel for striking witches or a copy of the original documents from the famous witch trials of the 1600's - but no. Either would have stood me in good stead in my daily dealings with Herself.
We are most certainly back to what passes for normal around here. We were thrown out into the elements at the crack of dawn, with a few scraps of hay to share amongst ourselves. I made my way into the hay storage area to forage and was soundly told off for my resourcefulness. Ditto for trying to ease my hunger pangs by chewing on the fence. I know how poor old Ivan Denisovich felt out there in the wastes of Siberia.
I did hear that she was harassed regarding the importation of a plum pudding (with hard sauce) on her voyage over but of course she had her way and it was finally delivered to the American cousins along with a jar of chutney. I suppose the authorities thought the pudding was some sort of incendiary device disguised as a curling stone. They professed themselves highly perplexed that anyone would consider the object a fit ending to a celebratory meal.
And what, pray tell, did she bring us? Hah! NOT. ONE. THING. I should mention that amongst other activities she visited the Peabody Essex Museum in the venerable town of Salem and returned with various items from the gift shop. I had hoped for a small souvenir of the place - perhaps a replica of a cudgel for striking witches or a copy of the original documents from the famous witch trials of the 1600's - but no. Either would have stood me in good stead in my daily dealings with Herself.
We are most certainly back to what passes for normal around here. We were thrown out into the elements at the crack of dawn, with a few scraps of hay to share amongst ourselves. I made my way into the hay storage area to forage and was soundly told off for my resourcefulness. Ditto for trying to ease my hunger pangs by chewing on the fence. I know how poor old Ivan Denisovich felt out there in the wastes of Siberia.
Monday, November 22, 2010
From The Fog
It's probably best that I'm not able to speak to you live - we wouldn't be able to see each other. The fog and rain are as thick as a winter blanket. Of course the woman keeps lurching up behind me and scaring me half to death. Someone should install a fog horn on her... or she could just use her normal speaking voice.
She and the male human are going off to America for that nation's version of Thanksgiving, where she will no doubt proceed to annihilate their turkey and pie reserves. The good news is that we will have the admirable Jamie catering to our every need. He requires nothing of us except that we eat the delicious food he prepares. No exercise, no nagging and no critiquing of body shape. He also bats Sally's toy mouse around to perfection, allowing her to play the role of a large, predatory feline. The toy mouse contains a pleasant smelling herb that encourages her to ever greater feats of stalking and pouncing. When it's effect wears off, she retreats to her plush igloo to recover.
To the United States of America, I send you my heartfelt sympathies, but rest assured, it's only for five days. However, I also thank you for this respite from a tongue "sharper than a serpent's tooth" (at least on the subject of random wood chewing). Our rail fencing may be prove to be surprisingly remodelled when she returns.
She and the male human are going off to America for that nation's version of Thanksgiving, where she will no doubt proceed to annihilate their turkey and pie reserves. The good news is that we will have the admirable Jamie catering to our every need. He requires nothing of us except that we eat the delicious food he prepares. No exercise, no nagging and no critiquing of body shape. He also bats Sally's toy mouse around to perfection, allowing her to play the role of a large, predatory feline. The toy mouse contains a pleasant smelling herb that encourages her to ever greater feats of stalking and pouncing. When it's effect wears off, she retreats to her plush igloo to recover.
To the United States of America, I send you my heartfelt sympathies, but rest assured, it's only for five days. However, I also thank you for this respite from a tongue "sharper than a serpent's tooth" (at least on the subject of random wood chewing). Our rail fencing may be prove to be surprisingly remodelled when she returns.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Foot Sore Five Update
What a difference a few days make. The four assorted equines who were rescued by Sheila from their wretched, footsore existence are now looking like shipwrecked sailors who have washed up on a magical isle. They can't quite believe it and they fervently hope it isn't all an illusion.
Timothy, the mule with the elf slipper feet, has had a first trim done and is considerably more comfortable. The farrier is confident he will make a full recovery. He desperately wants to be sociable and though he has a few misgivings about the intentions of the human race, he has let the volunteers deburr his tail and legs, which were a solid mass of itching, scratching misery. His resemblance to the much larger Russell Mule is startling.
Stuart Donkey attaches himself firmly to anyone who will let him and is proving to be an affectionate and loving soul. He believes himself to be a donkey version of one of those lap dogs. His feet are looking, if not exactly normal after the first trim, then at least like underpinnings which have a bright future.
Paula Donkey gave Sheila a bit of a surprise shortly after her arrival. She demonstrated a stance whilst, uhhhm, micturating, that indicated clearly that SHE is a HE! A long and tangled winter coat, coupled with a low, shuffling gait brought on by aching feet kept the detail of gender a mystery. Now renamed Peter, his feet have not fared so well. One back foot is so contorted that an x-ray will be done to determine the level of damage. He is receiving pain relief until the vet can assess his condition further.
Juliette Pony likewise has one back hoof and leg that are permanently twisted as a result of years of neglect. Unlike Peter, she seems to have developed moves to compensate for the handicap and although her leg will never be right, she is not in pain.
And poor Lillian Llama - what of her? Well, progress is being made. She is taking her meals in the trailer and recently began to sleep in there as well. A kind vet tech delivers her warm meals twice a day. It has been decided that she will be happiest with her colleagues at the sanctuary and her move will take place very, very soon.
Shadow the goat, now renamed VanaRose, made clear to Laurel the volunteer that her ears were feeling the chill and so Laurel has made her several sets of ear covers, in varying thicknesses so she can weather the winter chill in comfort. They match her tartan winter blanket, giving her a stylish air not usually seen outside the larger fashion houses.
Billie, human to Rafer and Redford, has declared November 18th to be International Donkey Day. What a wise and considerate woman and what an excellent idea! I have yet, however, to receive gifts or even lavish praise from Herself. The status quo is obviously alive and well around here.
Timothy, the mule with the elf slipper feet, has had a first trim done and is considerably more comfortable. The farrier is confident he will make a full recovery. He desperately wants to be sociable and though he has a few misgivings about the intentions of the human race, he has let the volunteers deburr his tail and legs, which were a solid mass of itching, scratching misery. His resemblance to the much larger Russell Mule is startling.
Stuart Donkey attaches himself firmly to anyone who will let him and is proving to be an affectionate and loving soul. He believes himself to be a donkey version of one of those lap dogs. His feet are looking, if not exactly normal after the first trim, then at least like underpinnings which have a bright future.
Paula Donkey gave Sheila a bit of a surprise shortly after her arrival. She demonstrated a stance whilst, uhhhm, micturating, that indicated clearly that SHE is a HE! A long and tangled winter coat, coupled with a low, shuffling gait brought on by aching feet kept the detail of gender a mystery. Now renamed Peter, his feet have not fared so well. One back foot is so contorted that an x-ray will be done to determine the level of damage. He is receiving pain relief until the vet can assess his condition further.
Juliette Pony likewise has one back hoof and leg that are permanently twisted as a result of years of neglect. Unlike Peter, she seems to have developed moves to compensate for the handicap and although her leg will never be right, she is not in pain.
And poor Lillian Llama - what of her? Well, progress is being made. She is taking her meals in the trailer and recently began to sleep in there as well. A kind vet tech delivers her warm meals twice a day. It has been decided that she will be happiest with her colleagues at the sanctuary and her move will take place very, very soon.
Shadow the goat, now renamed VanaRose, made clear to Laurel the volunteer that her ears were feeling the chill and so Laurel has made her several sets of ear covers, in varying thicknesses so she can weather the winter chill in comfort. They match her tartan winter blanket, giving her a stylish air not usually seen outside the larger fashion houses.
Billie, human to Rafer and Redford, has declared November 18th to be International Donkey Day. What a wise and considerate woman and what an excellent idea! I have yet, however, to receive gifts or even lavish praise from Herself. The status quo is obviously alive and well around here.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Quadriplegic Donkey Walks Again
Buddy in Nevada has sent this along so everyone can enjoy the happy ending. It's a long read but well worth it. Thank you Buddy.
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