THE RIOT DIARIES April 1st

My new ‘flak’ jacket arrived at last.
It’s the ultimate in rider protection wear and it looks just like one of those FBI  S.W.A.T team  vests, so it should protect me from all sorts of things for instance…

• Being trampled
• Leering men
• Falls off horses, buildings, cliffs, roof tops, trees
• Accidental falls out of airplanes and helicopters
• Vampires
• Bullets
• Drowning
• Knife attacks (unless it is a kitchen Ginsu knife of course as they cut through anything ) (apparently)
• Computer virus’s
• Mormans
• X Rays
• Insurance salesmen
• Microwave radiation
• Accountants and Lawyers

And anything else an active person like me may encounter on a day to day basis.
So I intend to wear it all the time – it’s quite fetching actually, and, at $400 and something dollars it’s the most expensive garment I own, therefore you can be sure I will be wearing it out to the next posh dinner I go to .
I mentioned this to my Mother and asked her if I should emblazon the price on the front of it somewhere and she said “My dear that would be far too obvious, simply allow the price tag to escape the collar at the back.”
*NOTE I may have exaggerated about the vest’s protective qualities in regards to insurance salesmen.

The Abyssinians, Flossom and me were eating a leisurely breakfast when the cat flap was flung open and D I Zeuss stood before us resplendent in a brand new SWAT jacket.

It had FBI embroidered on the front in small letters and a huge FBI on the back and by the look of him, he’d just eaten an entire sheep.

He puffed on a cigar and looked around suspiciously as if he was expecting trouble, then glared at us all one by one.

“Oh Gawd” said Flossom, rolling her eyes, “look who’s here”.
Zeuss swaggered past us into the kitchen, where he inspected the contents of the cat’s food bowls.
Finally he turned to us.

“You are all under surveillance” he said. “The Feline Bureau of Investigation has appointed me, FBI Agent Zeuss Booster to look for signs of counter intelligence, espionage and meaty bites”
“Espionage” sighed Grommart, “wasn’t that what we had for dinner last night?”
“HAAA!” yelled Zeuss, swinging round and pointing his cigar at her – “There you go – a clear case of counter intelligence”.
It was Flossom’s turn to glare at him. “She’s not applying counter intelligence”, she said, “she’s just thick”.
“And THAT”, said Zeuss, grandly, “is EXACTLY what counter intelligence is”.

I went to the Oxford A&P Show to support my NBF and her young horse Bounce who was there for the experience.
Bounce had a ball.

He refused to wear his bridle, complaining that ‘only poofy show ponies wore those’. He sampled Caroline’s hat, declaring it inedible and therefore shouldn’t be worn in his presence and finally he topped the day by barging the judge.

“I was testing her reaction time” he said, nuzzling Caroline gently back at the float, earning instant forgiveness.

Later that night I told the cats about the show.
“Hundreds of horses were parading round in front of us”, I said.

F.B.I. Agent Z. Mooster pricked up his ears at the mention of a parade.  “That would be an INDENTITY PARADE” he said, nodding his head wisely. “Did you recognize anyone?”

“Zeuss, they were horses”.

Unfazed, he puffed on his cigar and, checking to see that the other cats were looking at him, he continued, “And isn’t it so”, he said, “that it was in fact a HORSE who did assault you?”
Grommart and Sticky were all ears.
I had to admit, it was.

Zeuss paced up and down, waving his cigar about importantly, “So, I repeat my question”, he said, “What time is dinner exactly?”

April 5th

The Phantom and His Nibs got to go to the beach. It was Nibbler’s first time. The Phantom, having been there once before, was an expert about beaches and had previously spent most of the last week telling Nibbler all about it.

Nibbler raced through the forest on the way to the beach, he was hugely excited and couldn’t actually quite believe he was actually going to get to go to this ‘place of miracles’.

For some reason, the Phantom, who usually is not to be outdone in the racing stakes, was being very quiet and keeping his distance. I should have suspected something.

We finally made it to the huge sand dunes that precede the vast expanse of the beach.
Nibbler gave a loud snort and hoofed it up the dune, racing to get to the top where he stood, magnificently, tail flowing in the breeze, neck arched and nostrils flaring. The Phantom sidled up to him somewhat nervously.

“Where are the mares?” demanded Nibbler (Hoof Hefner)
“Um”, said the Phantom, kicking the sand around with his hooves, “there may not have been actual mares”, he admitted.
“But, you said the beach is full of naked mares” said Nibbler.
“Phantom?” I asked, “What on earth were you talking about?”
“Well”, he whispered, “I didn’t think you’d actually bring that eijit to the beach did I”.

Nibbler has a ‘floating issue’.

He thinks that the double float he and Phantom travelled happily to the beach in, is simply too small for a “Horse of Substance’.

“Look”, he said, stretching his neck up as high as he could get it and raising the tip of his nose to the roof of the float as he stood poised half way up the ramp. “I could bang my head on that if I..just…” and he bounced up on his hind legs and clocked his head. “There” he yelled furiously, “you see? I am a Horse of Substance”.

He looked towards The Phantom who was standing patiently waiting his turn to get on, “Oh yes, “said Phantom, who was still feeling a little guilty over the naked mares on beach saga, “Substantial, horse”.

“You do not see stallions squeezed into such confined areas”, Nibbler continued – “they have TRUCKS – with their names written on them”.

“Trucks” agreed the Phantom, “big trucks with the name of the stud – Hoof Hefner – stud” he said and snuffled into his hay.

Nibbler ignored him and rocketed back down the ramp for the 4th time, “I need room”, he said, “I simply can’t be expected to practice my passage in there”.
It was too much for the Phantom, who got the giggles, infuriating Nibbler further.
I got a bucket of sweet feed.

“I could die of suffocation in there” roared Nibbler. The delicious scent of molasses drifted towards him, causing his nostrils to twitch. “A big horse like my…erm , like myself…have principles…” he said sniffing the bucket with slightly glazed eyes, “Like I said, er,  I can’t…  I say, is that muesli?” And he marched up the ramp, after the bucket.

I’ve started a health kick.

Apparently, according to my friend ; one of the Karens’ who read it in a magazine, so it must be true; you don’t actually have to exercise in order to the get the benefits of exercise. You merely have to THINK about exercising and your muscles can be fooled into thinking they are actually doing it!!!

So of course, I tried it.

First I imagined running up 56 flights of stairs, and, I have to say I was a darn sight quicker than usual at getting up them – usually I’d take a lift and they can be tediously slow.

Anyhow, when I got to the top (about 5 seconds) I took a running jump; as you do, and virtually flapped my arms vigorously, flying across town – flying uses a huge amount of calories – just ask any hummingbird.

Of course, because I was virtually flying, I landed gracefully and neatly BESIDE a cow pat, not in it as I would have done if this was real life.

Then I ran an entire cross country course, just for fun, nimbly leaping over fence after fence. By the time I had finished I was virtually exhausted.

Fortunately, it was time to go out to lunch with the two Karens which was lucky because I clearly must have used up at least a million calories with all that virtual exercise, so I ordered the rich chocolate mousse with raspberries because, as everyone knows, raspberries and chocolate are full of antioxidents. So now, not only have I lost at least 50 kg but I am oxidant free.

I took a break from exercise for the rest of the day and worked instead. Now if anyone knows of a way to virtually work, let me know.

April 8th

Zeuss decided it was time he paid the Alpacas a visit. He and Sticky discussed it at length.
“The problem is, “said Zeuss, “I am the GOD of Alpacas and as such, I can hardly pop up and say ‘hello everybody, it’s me, God’”
“I knnnow” said Sticky helpfully.

“I mean it’s not The Oprah Show”, said Zeuss, “I need to be announced with accompanying thunder and lightning”
“What about Partly Bluett?” said Sticky, “He’s great at announcing”.
They went outside to talk to him.

“So you say…hello ladies and gentlemen, here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for…the imminent arrival of the all powerful, omnipresent, awesome yet modest…. GOD …OF…. ALPACAS” said Zeuss.
“And a rabbit?” said Partly hopefully.
“No rabbits”.
“What if a bird flies past?”
“Do not announce any birds”.
“A car then”, he said panting with excitement, “a car might go past, with a trailer”.

Zeuss glared at him then turned to Sticky, “You see? He’s a Huntaway, once he starts, you won’t shut him up, he’ll announce e everything, and it’ll be like the sodding academy awards”.

Flossom, who was sitting neatly on the doormat listening intently, smirked – “Have you thought about who you’d like to thank?” she said.

April 9th

No one knows how it came about or what convinced FBI Agent Z. Booster, to allow Flossom to dress him for his appointment with the Alpacas, but silence was deafening as he walked out of the bedroom where he and Flossom had spent the best part of the morning preparing for a regal entrance.

“What?” he asked, as he observed our shocked countenances.

“Is that God, or Elton John?” whispered Grommart.

Sometime in April

Relationships between Zeuss and Flossom have cooled somewhat since the Holy Costume debacle.
“I thought you said you wanted to look like a Queen”, said Flossom sulkily.
“I said”, roared Zeuss, “That I wanted to VENT MY SPLEEN”.
“I am a GOD”, he continued, “You don’t see Gods in DRAG”.
“What about at a costume party – for Gods?” suggested Grommart, trying to sooth ruffled fur.
“You might see a God in drag at a God’s office party for example”.
“I wasn’t going to a sodding party” snapped Zeuss.
“There’s only one thing a God can wear”, he said, glaring at everyone, “and that’s a pair of Holy Underpants”, and off he trotted to try them on and practice his maiden speech as God of Alpacas.

 

Sometime still in April – the next day actually

Zeuss, the God of Alpacas and of the House, sat on the floor in the lounge wearing his Holy Underpants.

He assumed a yogic-like pose that, combined with the sunlight twinkling off the jewels on his pants and the rotund hare-belly he’d developed after a large meal last night, made him look rather more like a misplaced disco ball than a God.

He was taking his (self-appointed) position of God very seriously, and as such, was, in his own words, hard at work ‘simply BEING’.

“So what does a God do exactly?” asked Sticky

“Nothing at all” smirked Zeuss. “I just AM”.

“Yeah but you must DO something?

“Nope, nothing at all”, The House God replied, yawning and stretching his toes luxuriously.

Sticky looked at Grommart and Flossom, “We could all be Gods then – if we wanted to I mean”.

Zeuss let out a snort of indignation, “I don’t think so”, he said,  “You have to have QUALIFICATIONS”.

The cats all looked at Zeuss.

“I pretty sure he bought his off the internet”, said Flossom.

I had intended to take Persil on a ‘Desensitization’ course with renowned horse trainer Scott O’Malley, but, convinced by The Phantom, that he was about to be trucked off to a Boot Camp for Delinquent Australian horses, Persil spat the dummy and refused to go.

Meanwhile, The Phantom, thinking we were actually about to go to the beach, loaded himself and stood patiently waiting to go.

Imagine his surprise to arrive at something that looked very much like a Boot Camp for delinquent horses.

“Of course, I wasn’t the horse who was meant to be coming here,” he said to Dodger (Caroline’s horse) “I thought we were going to the beach”.

We took the horses through into the training paddock. A large hairy pig snuffled serenely through the grass, scaring the be’Jesus out of The Phantom, “WHAT THE???” he yelled, bouncing back to the very end of his rope.

“That’s a pig”, I explained. The Phantom looked at me and then at the pig, before deciding the pig could be approached and sniffed with an enquiring nose.

“Oi”, said the pig, “watch it big boy”.

“OH MY GAWD” yelled the Phantom, leaping backwards into the air and spinning round wildly, startling all the other horses; “A TALKING pig”.

The Phantom remained the life and soul of the party, leading the trek down to the river, his previously sore feet no longer a problem thanks to a proper trim job (by Thorsten Kaiser) and some new boots. He danced along the road all the way back, “Everybody DANCE now”; he sang as he boogied sideways and clapped his hooves.

Dodger, quietly pacing behind him, rolled his eyes. “I can think of a more appropriate song for him”, he muttered, “Dancing Queen comes to mind”.

The Phantom returned home to a rapturous welcome.

He must then have spent the night teaching the other horses a few dance moves because Persil was busting to try them out when I rode him the next day.

He was wearing a new bit-less bridle (of a cross-over design) that I am trialing, and, rather than produce the calm, chilled horse as per the brochure and website, it seems to have the opposite effect on Persil.

“I’m jamming, I’m jamming, hope you like a jamming too”, sang Persil, bouncing down the path tossing his head like a demented rock star.

“So, this isn’t really a bridle, is it?” he said, later when he had calmed down a bit, “I mean, really, it’s more like a sweat band isn’t it”.

 

Zeuss rolled in around morning tea time clearly pleased with himself, having, by the look of him, swallowed an entire cow.

“Creche is going well”, he said to Sticky, “7 baby rabbits this morning”. Then he burped obscenely and flopped down on the floor.

“Zeuss has started a crèche for baby rabbits” said Grommart proudly, “he takes care of them while the parents do stuff”.

I looked at him, “What time are the parents coming to pick them up Zeuss?”

“They pick them up?” he said.

 

The dogs have been busy all morning playing with Flossom.

When she eventually came in, it was obvious what they had been playing.

Pimp my Cat.

 

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