And A Little More Anxiety Please!!

 

Don't be fooled: the photograph of our jack o' lantern is a distraction. I didn't think to document the following story as it was unfurling as it was too real-time awful and all-demanding of our attentions.

Never a dull minute around here! I trotted out "bright and early" (read actually pitch dark and fucking freezing) to feed the ponies. (*1) (You knew it had to involve them, right?) There's Neko, never one to be late for a meal, already waiting at the gate issuing, "I'm hungry!" and "Where have you been with my morning slops?!?!" whinnies. I'm wondering where Maggie is but figure she knows by now I feed her on the other side of the fence, away from our friend Neko (who bolts her food so as to scarf Maggie's down as well). I'm looking and looking and still no Maggie so I open the gate and start walking down the field when I spy a dark lump on the hillside. My first thought is, "Oh hell; Maggie has gone and died!" but when I called her name, her head came up and she nickered to me. 

Sure enough, just like last year (look it up on my blog) Maggie had once again cast herself on the hill. Her feet were uphill and she couldn't right herself. Additionally, poor Maggie is as old as that hill and probably not the strongest equine around. I went down to her and petted her head and made sure her blanket wasn't caught on her legs and preventing her from standing. Tough old thing that she is, she kept trying to stand. I even went and got her grain, thinking food being a super inducement, she might succeed in standing. It didn't work so I retreated to the house to inform Bob that, "Houston, we have a problem." I'm positive that Bob's love of horses is growing astronomically every day!

Did I mention that there was snow on the ground, it was 22 degrees and still only 7:00, pre-time change? And then I remembered that my riding instructor had always said to call the horse farm if anything like this happened. And I did just that, despite not having left on especially hospitable terms. (Don't ask: an unfortunate string of events this springtime). Anyway, I called and Jess answered and agreed to rouse her husband and come right over. Troopers these horse people!!

A darker, nighttime picture for a visual interlude.

Neko kept eating, Jess and Scott arrived, Bob located ropes, I thrust a thermometer into Maggie's posterior (such fun!) and when it was documented that she was still warm and alive, ropes were looped around her feet and hey presto! Maggie was flipped over and stood up in a single bound and trotted off up the hill just like that.

Horses! Gotta love them (or not). They do some pretty stupid things and it is documented that they can get hurt on almost anything- including a slight hill in their pasture. I thanked Scott and Jess profusely and later bought them a really nice bottle of champagne (which I know they appreciated. How else to reward their heroic call to duty?!) (Although Sabina my riding instructor informed me, drily, that they didn't come to help me; they came to help the horse! Hahahahaha! Who cares?!) 

Bob was mad at Neko who seemed blissfully oblivious to her pasture pals distress but I guess someone among us had to maintain calm. 

So I'm still a nervous wreck about Tuesday's election, somewhat sanguine about the outcome but expecting havoc. And everything inducing stress in the last blog posting still applies. Bob thinks I need an exorcism!

(*1) I also have to insert that I really hadn't slept the night before at all (full blue moon etc) and had said to Bob, "After I feed the horses, I'm going back to bed". Really!??!?!?!!?!?

 

Fussy Eaters

Doesn't that look delicious? And quite the flavor assortment, attractively presented... Jules is being offered the equivalent of the "all you can eat buffet", and he turns up his nose. (He even has a handmade personalized place mat and still he refuses to eat!) I have heard that male dogs are less fussy that females, but try telling that to The Dog. I fear he's gone on a hunger strike, except that he seems to believe that old kleenexes and squirrel fecal material are tasty alternatives to wholesome, holistic organic doggie trail mix. (The above offered biscuit option is sweet potato and granola; can we get any more wholesome than that?) And how could I neglect to mention that Mr. Dog has an uncanny ability to know when the bag of dog food is 2/3 empty and starts refusing his dinner? I am not even purchasing the big 30 pound bags that could possibly go stale or taste "old". I am spending more by buying the 15 pound bag which would seem to retain it's factory freshness. But The Dog knows and I must bring home a new bag (and show it to him as I bring it into the house) so that he can rest assured I'm not pawning the stale dregs off on him.

Here he is: playing dead and being (typically) melodramatic when asked if he's interested in eating. He seems to be saying, "Go away. Do not bother me with that tasteless, disgusting dreck". I keep insisting that we don't want him becoming pale and weak. Poor thing! All he can do is lay there!
And The Horse? Just as bad!

Here Maggie is, ignoring me and my pleas to get out and graze. I painstakingly assemble temporary pastures for her and she prefers to stand in the barn, awaiting my deliveries of hay and grain, the equine equivalent of "Take Out". I think she feels grazing is beneath her and altogether too much work.

Look at all that green stuff to chow down on! But her response is to amble about, putting nose to ground in a desultory manner, picking halfheartedly at a few blades of grass and then returning to the barn. Fussy eaters!
Bob and I have no such compunction. We clean our plates. It is a rare occasion indeed when we miss a meal or pass up on seconds. Bring it on!