The Riot Diaries
The Phantom and I finally joined a group of about twenty riders for his first big day out.
We started out walking next to a beautiful grey Arab who eyed the rather plump Phantom up and down with a certain air of arrogance, “So,” said the Arab, “I do endurance, what do you do?” Not to be outdone, Phantom tossed his head; he was enjoying himself immensely, “Karate”, he said.
“You what?” said the Arab, “I’ve never heard of a horse doing Karate, “did you hear that?” he asked an enormous Hunter on the other side of him, “This horse does Karate”.
“Really?” said the Hunter, “How do you do that?”
“Like this”, yelled The Phantom, taking a flying leap sideways, legs at all angles, just as a small puzzled looking fox terrier emerged from behind a bush.
“Wow”, said the Arab, “I have to try that”. A bird flew out of a tree and the Arab jumped up and backwards. “Not bad,” said The Phantom, “for a first attempt”.
“So, what else do you do in Karate?” a very elegant dressage horse pulled up beside us; word was spreading. We had just reached an expanse of smooth grass and had started to canter.
“This!” shouted The Phantom, followed by “Hiiiii
yaaaaaa” as he leapt up into the air and bounced expertly
on his toes for the next ten strides.
At every chance he got The Phantom showed off more of his karate moves. He hurled himself about at the canter in a convincing display of Martial Arts expertise ending on our last stretch towards home with a spectacular new move.
It involved a couple of gigantic leaps forward followed by tossing his head about which culminated in his bridle coming off. I had to leap off his back and force him to stand still while I rebridled him.
Fortunately the group stood and waited for us.
“That was incredible”, said a rather sedate Standard bred, “I’d sure like to be able to do that”. All the horses agreed, The Phantom was a hero, which was interesting because all the riders including me agreed that my horse is a big clown.
To my great surprise, we’ve been invited on another ride…
Feb 21st
The Landlord is going to sell our house. This means people are
coming to look at it, which is giving D. I. Zeuss plenty to investigate.
Some very nice people turned up the other night and Brent and I stood around chit chatting with them.
Suddenly we noticed the inquisitive detective up on his hind legs peering at the grill of their van.
“What’s he doing?” said one of the startled visitors.
“Motor vehicle inspection”, said Brent, matter of factly.
D. I. Zeuss was poking an investigative paw into the grill. He then went under the car and all we could see was his back legs as he continued a vigilant survey of the braking system.
Ten minutes later, he emerged and sidled up to us, “Mwaaaoooow”, he said.
“Congratulations”, said Brent, “Your vehicle passed inspection.
Brent had the day off, he had a day owing him so I took the opportunity to force him into a car and off to the doctor. His ‘man-cut’ has not healed, it should have had a stitch but there was no way he was going to any doctor.
When he first ‘stabbed himself’, he was busting a gut to get to emergency; convinced he was in imminent danger of bleeding to death, he practically begged me to take him. All that mysteriously changed however when I pointed out that it might need a stitch.
He went strangely silent and emergency wasn’t mentioned again.
Brent, you see, has a pathological fear of doctors and needles. Let me rephrase that. His fear is in direct proportion to the angle of the needle – if it is coming towards him, it is time to run; however, needle going towards, me; for instance and he becomes quite jovial about it all.
Now his ‘man-cut’ has a little infection setting in and a trip to the doctor has become a necessity. I went with him to make sure he didn’t bolt. The doctor (who is a hoot) studied it with due deference. “Well?” I said, “What do you think? Does he need an INJECTION?”
“Oh no”, said the doctor, “no injections needed”.
Brent visibly relaxed.
“This man needs an ENEMA”, the doctor declared, “Followed
by AMPUTATION of his right arm”.
Feb 23rd
Some
time ago I applied for a job as a health website coordinator.
I haven’t a clue what a coordinator does but as I can co-ordinate my wardrobe fairly well I thought I’d apply for it.
To my great disappointment they turned me down. I’d sent them a copy of the Riot Diaries to show them what I’d been up to; it may have put them off.
“We love your creativity,” they said, “But…” I
was
pretty gutted about it.
Today however, imagine my surprise to find an email saying someone had dropped out, was I still interested in applying! “Am I?” I emailed straight back, “Is the Pope a Catholic?”
Then I had to rush into Google to confirm that the Pope is in fact, still a Catholic.
I have an interview on Thursday at 12.30pm sharp. I need to prepare a five minute presentation on how I would promote this service in my region.
I am chocker block full of great ideas starting with an enormous rock concert fronted by Bono – I hear he’s usually open to helping the needy and the desperate – IE me.
Feb 24th
Brent and I visited Nibbler at his ‘Health Spa’ last night.
He was having a bath. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, “Did you bring any food?”
He looks fabulous, he’s lost a lot of weight (which he needed to) and he looked sleek and shiny.
Erana, his ‘healthcare provider’, is doing a swimmingly good job.
He’s blissfully happy; unsurprisingly perhaps, as he is surrounded by mares, and, as the only resident male has become a sort of ‘Hoof Hefner’.
He suavely leaned on the fence post, eyeing up his ‘play girls’.
“If he misbehaves, Erana”, I said, “Threaten to send him back to his two 'camp' friends”.
Feb 25th
In the interests of being able to present myself as someone who does know what this job is all about, I thought I should actually study the job specifications; All 60 pages of them. (I may have exaggerated slightly on the actual quantity)
It’s a spooky little list, full of ‘corporate speak’ designed to be totally incomprehensible to the reader, so at the end of it I still have no idea what the job actually entails. It did say, however, several times that the applicant must have a high knowledge of IT.
I figure, as a self confessed, fully accredited ‘know-IT all’; especially when wearing my ‘schmart’ glasses; I should be in with a chance.
Feb 26th
Flossom appears to have taken up yoga.
I caught her at it on the lounge floor – resplendent in a shiny new green leotard.
She looked a bit like a Pilates ball ; with optional extras.