May 28th

Nibbler and The Phantom staged a great escape just on dusk.

I looked up just in time to see the pair of them heading off joyously down the road, tails held aloft, on their way down to visit the mares. At least, Nibbler AKA ‘Hoof Hefner’ was on his way top look up the girls, The Phantom is just easily led.

Dear Persil was standing by the open gate waiting for me to come and tell him it was ok to gallop off after the others.

By the time I got to the mare paddock, Hoof Hefner, was in full regalia, he had blown himself up to about 17.3hh and was floating majestically up and down the fence looking far more glorious than a fat (currently) unemployed gelding has any right to.

As usual the mares were lined up in an admiring bunch, squealing and kicking over who could get closer to ‘the Hoof’.

The Phantom was busy stuffing his face, he doesn’t know (or care) much about mares but he sure knows a good crop of clover when he comes across it.

They reluctantly followed me home.

“Girls”, sighed Nibbler happily as he shuffled into his paddock. “BOOOYAH!” yelled the Phantom, doing a flying buck and galloping off down the paddock.

Persil nuzzled my jacket and sighed happily "Tossers", he said.

May 29th

Zeuss held an ‘Anatomy Class’ last night.

I knew nothing about it till this morning when I found all 4 cats clustered around the sprawled out remains of what could have been a sheep, in the hallway.
They all know that bringing fast food into the house to eat it is absolutely forbidden.
Zeuss looked up at me guiltily as I opened the bedroom door.
”And, that’s the heart,” he said quickly, pointing to something vaguely heart shaped.

It appears I actually hadn’t mentioned Anatomy Lessons in my list of forbidden sins of the house.

May 30th

Having watched a documentary on chivalry, Zeuss became very keen on the idea of his own suit of armour.
We designed it together.

Apart from one small problem – that of movement (he hasn’t got any), it does what it is designed to do…namely grants him full protection from the almighty paw of one F. Possovitz.

 

 

 

 

May 31st

A package arrived for me from a competition we had won with a photograph of Persil and me taken by Brent.

It was a box of very posh Stubben horse shampoo, conditioner, hoof oil and a fly repellent which smells like cheap cologne. Even I didn’t feel like landing on The Phantom when I sprayed him with it.

I played ‘Posh My Horse’ with both The Phantom and Persil. They now have beautiful silken, flowing manes and tails and they smell as if they’re about to go out for a night on the town.

“We’ve been ‘Poshed’” said Persil proudly to Nibbler when they got back into the paddock.

His Nibbs took a sniff and drew his top lip back in horror, “Good God”, he said, “What part of ‘Posh’ don’t you understand”.

June 1st

I did the unthinkable today.

I became a hairdresser’s worst nightmare and cut my own hair.

Snip snip I went, snip snip, I was starting to enjoy myself, snip snip, now I was getting plain carried away. Snip snip. I gave myself a rather fetching (I thought) fringe. It looked remarkably like a horse’s forelock.

“Oh dear,” said the usually unobservant Brent, “Who butchered your hair?” followed by a helpful, “You should have let me cut it”.

I might have to borrow one of his ‘Man Tools’ to even it up.