Dear Diary
This week has seen me hack out lots, be turned into a superhero horse and cause my mother to have some sort of melt down; in other words a normal week in my life…
It all started last week when mother returned to see how I was getting on post the Herman the German sneaky needle attack and my physio for my manly shoulder injury. Aunty Becky had reported to her that she didn’t think I was quite “right” still and thus could mum take me out for a hack to assess the situation?
Now, never one to point out that my mother has the veterinary assessment skills of a mole with cataracts — I jumped at the chance to go for a bimble around the block with my main man Billy, instead of poncing about in circles channelling my inner Morris Dancer.
So off we tootled, with mother watching my shoulders move with the intensity of a nil-by-mouth patient watching feeding time at the zoo. Apparently, satisfied I wasn’t in any imminent danger of my legs falling off, we pushed on — with mother blindly ignoring the large and thus very dangerous lorry approaching us at speed. At what point mother and her clearly batty-as-a-box-of-frogs sidekick Aunty C decided that calmly walking past this beast of a vehicle whilst it hissed menacingly at us was a good idea, I know not. Billy, once again demonstrating he’s not entirely right in the head, obeyed his mother, blindly ignoring his natural survival instincts and channelling his inner lemming.
Now, I’m many things but a lemming isn’t one of them. With my motto of “he who spins and trots away, lives to eat another day” firmly ringing in my ears — I took matters into my own hooves and staged a strategic retreat. My mother, though for all her dopey “pom-pom on legs” looks, has the reactions of a viper when she wants to and so thwarted me, whilst muttering loudly about Irish idiots who have melt downs over lorries. I have no idea how she knew the driver was Irish? With much encouragement and liberal application of Mr Whip across my rear end, I tiptoed past the lorry and we continued on our way.
After that, the three tractors of terror and the dustbin lorry seemed a mere inconvenience as we power-trotted our way past. I’ve never heard it used in such a way before but I’m utterly convinced that being called an “inconsistent pain in the posterior” as we sashayed past all of the above, was in fact a compliment?
On returning to the yard mother surmised to Aunty C that, whilst I was forward going, I did still seem a little “stiff” on my left side and so the afternoons “therapy” was still required. I was left mystified by this comment, until later that afternoon when a nice lady physio turned up at the yard and I was dragged in to see her. Listening to mum and the lady talk it transpired she was coming to have a look at my shoulder and if required I was going to have laser therapy. As I am always keen to learn new things, I asked old Tom what laser therapy meant. He said it would either turn me into a super hero or mean that when I got angry, I would go green and rip my rugs.
Baring in mind he is a thoroughbred and thus not to be trusted, I did ignore him until I noted, with some alarm, that the lady wore eye protection whilst wiggling her machine all over my shoulder. Now, she didn’t issue me with a cape at the end or anything so I’m not sure if I have to supply my own? I can confirm though that he was wrong about the rug ripping and me turning green — having accidentally shredded my lightweight stable rug two days ago, I can say without fear of a lie, the only colour change was in mothers face and it was definitely red not green…
I can also confirm that the red went to a white shade of pale when she did the maths on what I’ve cost her over the last few weeks and that’s before Cool New Shoes Man comes today. I know she thinks I’m worth it, but I am somewhat alarmed by her slightly manic mutterings about selling a kidney to pay for it all; the amount she drinks I’m pretty sure she needs both of them…
Anyway I’m off to ponder what super powers the laser therapy might have given me and figure out where I can acquire a cape from; I wonder if the boss lady really needs both of those curtains?
Laters
Hovis
