Ditch, Donkeys, Diplomacy and Death .....

  Well, thank Fuck that went alright ....! Ditch the diplomatic ~ or maybe just completely, transparently child like in his honesty? Called Pat.

  I've just had my horse pen re concreted, see? And a slab laid outside, for the dung heap. Horse nirvana! Ditch nirvana too! But, more of that in a later post.

  Rosie and Donks are thus having a horses holiday, up on one of Pat's fields. Three fields, actually. Bunked up with his donkeys. Must have been up there a week or two now, I guess?

  What ever. It just occurred to me that I really should go and commune with them. I mean; I look at them, every day. But, that's just sneaking a peak over the hedge, as I walk the Dogs. Just see that Rosie's physically there and fuck off home.

  Today, I went up there alone. Got into the field and kissed Rosie's nose. She's looking fucking fantastic! God, the glow on her! Horse porn!

  Donks is as scruffy as ever. Flea bitten fuck. I saw his feet were 'OK'. But, I'll chip in the next time Pat has the Farrier down. I like their feet kept Right. Not just 'okay'.

  Then, one of Pat's two donkeys approached me. Aagh, jesus! Got a fucking beach towel rolled up, under the skin of both sides of its neck. Aladdin type slippers on. Hooves like upturned skis. Belly on it like a fucking oil drum! Fucked.

  The other one, with the head collar, wouldn't come That close to me. And I'd seen enough already. I had some thoughts. But, these are another mans animals. What's a man to do?

  Came home and couldn't stop thinking about her. The state of her. She'll be following Pony.

  Fuck it. Shit or bust. I rang Pat.

  Told him I'd been up there. His donkey's fucked. He needs to get them both into the shed and feed them straw. Get the Farrier in too. 

  I mentioned how I'd been amazed to see them, earlier, on the meadow above the fields they're now on.  Donkeys? On a Meadow?!? I said how that's like putting kids in a sweet shop.

  Give the man his due. He took it without a flinch. We'll be getting his donk's out of there and up into the little shed. (Where, probably in the dark time, that donkey will lay down and have to be shot)

  He got the first donk to keep Pony company. Then, Pony had to be shot, after he got laminitus. That left Donkey 1 alone. So, we got Donkey 2.  I think it's 2 that's now fucked.

  What ever. Shit will take its inevitable course now. And I'll break that chain. Because, if the other donkey survives? I'll not leave Pat to get her a companion. I'll bring her home.

  FFS. I have the room for her, in the stable. The work I'm having  done will make looking after them a breeze.  Pat can throw me a bale a week, for her up keep. Fuck it.

  As I made a new fat cake, for the birds, today. Filled the peanut basket. Filled the nigger seed feeder. Fed my canaries. Went up to check the horses. Fed my Dogs. Made a note to buy more Dog food. Fox food. Peanuts. Pondered the cost of nigger seed .....

  I often think to myself; One day, I'll die. And a Lot of creatures, round here, won't know what's fucking hit them! 

 

Pat's Donkey .....

  I just tried ~ desperately ~ to show a certain Rage Comic image here. Fucking system just wouldn't allow it big enough to see properly. But, I had to publish it to find that out. Then I deleted it.

 Now, I know that would have fucked with " Trefoyl " 's head. Because he now gets email alerts when I post here. So, here's a picture that should be viewable. 

 This is Pat's Donkey. Pony's mate:

 

    Isn't she a sweetheart? This was taken before Pat' got her feet sorted out. Dear god, have I seen outrageously worse feet in my time too .....

  I'll take a decent shot of Pony, in the next few days. Just have to remember to take my camera up there. I took one when I took this. But Pony was standing at what turned out to be a bad angle and it doesn't portray him well.

  I now feed them both biscuits like a pair of puppies. Pat' too is finding them much more approachable. All round? We have a Result!

 

Pony Has His New Friend .....!!!!!

  I'm So chuffed, for him! I honestly don't know what else to say, really.

 I just sat on Pat's shoulder. Leaning the weight and easing off, as I felt his moods swing with the other things  in his head at that moment. Seems I got it right!

 Last Saturday week was the local horse sale day. We went there. First thing I saw was a drop dead gorgeous, gray donk. Absolute ringer for the bible picture ones. Cross on the back?

 Five minutes later and Pat's asking me about the self same creature! I agree that she (And it was a She) is fucking gorgeous. I'm just wondering about the little, chocolate brown, thing that's sticking so close to her ..... Till it dropped a 1/3 grown, fifth leg! Jack! Forget it!

 Frankly? There were one or, maybe two others there that had My eye. But, come the actual time of the Donkey Sales? I was completely smitten with this heart breakingly gorgeous little pony foal ~ Keep repeating mantra: " No More 'Horses'! No More 'Horses'! "

 Pat', meanwhile, had got a call, telling him that there were four jennies up for grabs, on the way home. So, the big, black jen' slipped us by. I dragged myself away from that To Die For little pony. Self harming all the way. We decided to gamble on the four.

 Fine looking four too. Pat' and I simultaneously eyeballed one, in particular. Much talking out the sides of mouths ensued. I had a swift commune with the candidate. Meaningful glances and barely perceptible nods were exchanged.

 £50.00 later, we're bowling down the road. Pony's new friend to be in the little horse box we were dragging behind.


 Well, that was, what? Just short of two weeks ago. Pony was absolutely fucking ecstatic to meet his new friend ~ though She was a little less forward in reciprocating his delighted enthusiasm, at first. Well ..... At least for the first ten minutes that I stood around.

 Long since then, they've become inseparable. And I've ~ quite deliberately ~ curbed my daily visits, to feed Pony his 'biscuits'. I see myself as their God Father. Pat's their Dad. I didn't want to 'compete'.

 So, I've popped up each two or three days. (Granted, I've barely known what to do with myself on my 'off' days!) Tuesday, Pat' invited me up there. Offering me a lift into town. I got Donkey to actually touch the biscuit I offered her, with her mouth. Then she shied.

  Today? She took several biscuits from my finger till I'd run out,  in fact

  Not sure Pat's got her eating out of his hand yet. I'm gently working on him too though .....
 

Pony.....

  Well, due to the fact that I've been getting emails, PM's, open questions on fora, and just about every other conceivable form of  communiqué, all asking after Pony, I figured I'd put it here, for all to see.

 Short answer is; Pony's brilliant, thanks! And, in a couple of weeks time, Pat' and I have an appointment with the local horse auctions. To find that female donkey to keep Pony company.

 Now, for anyone interested enough to read it, I'll sort of work back over the recent history of what's been going on here. Show ye how this latest turn has come about.

  It started when I was walking up to see Pony and ran into Pat' on the road. He was on his quad and had the trailer loaded up with fence posts and stuff. He said he was off down my end to fix up one of his meadows. Because he'd bought a mare and foal!!!!!

  I'm like, What the fucking fuck ....?!? Couldn't believe what I was hearing. But I recognised the fencing kit alright. Off went Pat' and I went on, head spinning, to see Pony.

 Next thing ye know,some bloke's pulled into Pat's yard, with a horse box. I didn't like this. I liked it a shit load less when Pat' asked me to load up Pony!!! He said this guy was going to sort his feet out for him.

 Only, I'm so wary, by now, that I've already clocked the sign in this guys motor. " Padraig ~~~~~; Construction "? So, I've pulled Pat' about it, outright:

'What the fuck is a Builder doing to Pony's feet? And why would he need to take Pony away to do it?'. I'm just about ready to grab Pony and try to fight us a way out of there!

 But, Pat' said that the guy had shit loads of horses of his own ~ this, it turns out, is the guy Pat' bought the mare off ~ and his own farrier is due. So, he's taking Pony to his own stables, to be there when the farrier comes.

  I wasn't happy and made some surly noises at Pat'. Just to let him know that, if this was some sort of trick ..... 

 Anyway, that must have been Sunday week back. So begun a wretched and miserable week, for me. Moping about and going up to the yard, every day, to forlornly look into Pony's empty shed.

  Pat' had told me Pony was due back next Saturday. That came and went. No Pony. Sunday and Monday I was up there two or three times a day, hoping to find Pony back. Disappointed.

 Yesterday, Pat' brought me a bale of hay down and said 'My' Pony was back! LMFAO! Freudian slip or what? I don't know. But, I was happy.

  When I went up there to see him? I was fucking amazed! I opened the shed door and, straight away, it was like a whole, new Pony! He never so much as batted an eyelid at me. Came straight to my hand, when I offered him his biscuits. And his coat ....?!

 There he was. Tiny little feet. Coat sleek and gleaming, curry comb tracks still clearly visible. I couldn't swear to it that he hadn't been given a bath at some point!

 But, his demeanour? In Fucking Credible!!! The confidence of him! The shivering, shaking wreck I'd led into that box a week ago was now a sleek and beautiful creature who never flinched as I put my arm round his neck and buried my face in his fur.

  Padraig had sure as hell taken good care of Pony! Above and beyond. I'll buy that man a drink any time I find him in town.

 I mentioned Pony's astonishing new state of mind and he said Pony never even shied when he went in there! Pat' was a dumbstruck as me. Then he mentioned his theory about what had made Pony a nervous wreck;

 He said he reckoned a rat or a badger might have got into the shed and terrorised Pony! I pointed out, as diplomatically as I could, that I'd Think I might have known about it, had there been any rats or badgers in his farm yard. Me being the resident pest controller for the area.

 As it is, I reckon it came to me, just this morning, how come Pony's so calm now: Ever had a toothache ....? Yeppers. Well, poor Pony, of course, had fucking hoofache! Four of them. Be enough to drive any poor creature to distraction, wouldn't it? Poor thing!

 I'll point this out to Pat', when I go up there in a minute. Pat's going to fence in a plot beside his house, for Pony. He was going to stick him back down in that secret field of his. I 'had a word .....' LOL!

 So, there ye have it. Pony's back. His feet are sorted (Sadly, his rear right is fucked. The one where the hoof was splitting around the top. Don't know if that can ever mend itself?) He's in fantastic condition. Happy in his head. I now intend to make damn sure he stays that way.

 Thanks to everyone who expressed such interest in Pony. He's a happy little horse now. And I'm off up to see him and feed him his biscuits

Happy Saint Paddy's Day!

 Shocked and stunned, personally. Been mouching about all morning. No real concept of which day of the week it was. Finally decided to go and spend an hour or two, squaring off that corner of the rushes.

 Wandered up to Pat's place. Communed with Pony for a bit. Fed him his biscuits. Then headed over to the shed, to pick up my brush cutter.

 Just happened that Pat was coming out to his van. When I explained my plans, he looked horrified! " No ....! " He said. " Ye can't go cutting any rushes today! "

 I thought; 'Well; It didn't rain that much yesterday. And it's a bloody Bog anyway. Never exactly gonna be dry underfoot, is it?'

 But, then, Pat carried on; " No Irishman works on St. Paddy's Day! "  I'm like; ' Faaaaarkk!!! ' Never had a bloody clue!

 I knew it was coming. But, that was like days ago. Then it all got a bit nebulous. Now it's here, upon me, look. 

 And, as the only person I've spoken to thus far today, a natural born Irishman, has so generously, graciously and quite unconsciously embraced me within the terms of " Irishman ", I've felt honour bound to follow suit.

 Thus I've abandoned all thoughts of working today. I've come home and have tied on my Shamrock patterned dicklo. And now, here I am; Sat here with the first of a Great Many pints of Stout. (I also had a crafty nip of Jameson too. Just to rinse my gums with. More of that later!)

 I'm sure the entire UK, at least, will today be throbbing with 'Plastic Paddies', those who, on this day and this day only, seem to remember that their Great, Great, Great Uncle, on their Mothers Sister In Laws Brothers Mates side was 3/8ths Irish ~ or so family legend has it.

Green beer will be sold. Guinness will become suddenly favoured. The Real Irish, abroad, will go absolutely fucking ballistic. I raise a glass and salute you all!

 Now, let's get on with getting completely fucking slaughtered! It is, after all St. Paddy's Day.
  

Pat's Pony ~ Update .....

 " Pat's Pony ". Sounds bad, that! Like I'm announcing that my mate, Pat, is shit! Hell, no! Just thought I'd bring " Pony " back into the loop here. Because he's becoming quite a feature, with me.

 Last time I wrote about Pony, see, I didn't even know where he was. Pat has land down behind his bungalow. I don't go there. I don't like sniffing around behind his house. Just doesn't seem right. Wife and kids 'n all. 

 Anyway, the other day I'm in Pat's farm yard and think to ask him; " Where is Pony? " Thinking of those mysterious meadows, tucked away behind the home place there.

 Only, to my astonishment, Pat' shoots the bolt on a low door at the end of his 1904 cow shed! There's Pony! Poor fucker! He's in a two cow bay. No view of the outside world. Hole in the wall showing the furry flank of a tethered cow, next door.

 Effectively? A fucking Dungeon! And Pony's doing Solitary. He's got a rubber mat in each bay. Both piled with mouldering shit. No water. No current food. No salt lick. Fuck all.

 Worst of all? I've stepped in there and he's nearly gone ballistic. Poor creature's a complete fucking wreck. He didn't seem to recognise me and was half hysterical at my presence. Right There: This was gonna fucking stop!

 Now, Pat has a cow laying down, right now. She's in calf, far as I can make out. I've no idea why she's laying down. But, Pat paid £50 for someone to bring an inflatable balloon thing and blow it up beneath her.

 That got her to feel her feet on the ground for an hour. Supposedly made her feel a bit better? I wouldn't know. I know shit about cowz. Know next to shit about horses, come to that. But, I have an inborn affinity with Dogs. And now, it seems, horses touch me too. 

 Back to Pony. I just wanted to indicate that Pat is Far from some ogre. He too loves his creatures. He's simply clueless about horses. He's never, in years, been able to get near Pony without simply herding the poor creature from A to B. Or calling me, to lead him.

 I gently bid Pat get the fuck out of Pony's dungeon, while I got to work on Pony's head.

 Twenty minutes later, I beckoned Pat in there and gave him some pointers. Another Ten minutes and Pony was, all be it tentatively, eating out of Pat's hand :-)

 I'll leave it there, for now.  I could go on all night here. I just wanted to make it clear that Pat, genuinely, cares for his creatures. He just hasn't ~ yet ~ twigged how bovines and equines differ. 

 Don't worry though. Pony is now being cleaned out, daily. Gets a basket of hay to amuse himself with. Fed loads of proper, horsey treat 'biscuits' and is generally 'communed with' by someone, every day now.

 The Inner Pony is being taken in hand. Get that up and running. Then I'll have to turn my attention to the Outer Pony. His coat's in a shit state. His feet?!? Let's not even go there .......... yet.

     

Pat's Buying A Donkey .....

 Met Pat , on the track, the other day. Tells me he's buying a donkey. Seems his female pony died and now the male's alone. Horses hate being lonely.

 I fucking coveted that pony. She was gorgeous! Chestnut fur and a golden mane. She'd never let me near her.

 " Pony ", as I know him? Same fur. But, a redder mane. Good as gold. I gained his trust in no time. We'd hang out and commune together, over the fence. While the female stood back a bit.

But, Pat soon came to rely on me to lead them. He couldn't get near either. I'd just give 'Pony' a minty biscuit, Kiss his nose. And chat to him as I led him absolutely where ever he needed to go. Female pony following him.

 Pat bought these two for his daughter(s), back in the day. I guess, like kids do, they just ..... I dunno. Ponies got 'relegated'. Just shifted from field to field. No good to anyone. Just an obligation.

 I'd have killed to have brought them down here. And what? Gone bankrupt, trying to feed them hay? Had their little feet adding to the destruction of the acre Pat lets me use for my own 'horses'?

  Anyway, she ~ Pat's female pony ~ went to absolute rat shit, virtually over night. This is the way. I was stunned, when I last saw her. It was like a sixteen year old had gone eighty, over night. Now she's dead.

  And, Pat said he's buying Pony a donkey, for company. A female donkey. Because the male one, living alone near him, shouts its fucking head off, all day. Drives Pat mad. Lonely donkey, see?

  And I'm aghast. Just how much money has Pat got?! Female donkey?!  Fuck!!! When I bought Donks, my bare yearling, male donk? He cost me £300. And that was straight down the line what a Male donkey cost ye, then.

  Female Donkey? £1,500!!! Faaaarkk!!!! And Pat's gonna buy one, just for company for Pony?!? Fuck!!! I'm all for fetching Donks and us breeding some donkey. Get a female? Fucking jack pot!

  I say this to Pat. He looks at me, " WTF?! " I look at Him; " What?! "

  And this is where my harshest lesson in the reality of the rotten stench of the decomposing corpse of the long dead Celtic Tiger comes in.

 I bought Donks, £300.00, fair going rate for a male donkey. Yeah. But, that was six years ago. When a female donkey was £1,500.00. 

 Checked the free ad's paper, on line, last night. Female donkey? £100.00!!!  

 I was saying in the pub, today, how I was  going home to slap my worthless donkey around. Tell him what a useless, worthless, expensive hay munching machine he was! Costing me a fortune, just to be there.

And spy on me, in the 'morning', when I came out. Peering through the gap, waiting for his breakfast. Shouting his fucking head off, for his supper, when I came home at night. Chatting to Rosie, while I'm not there.

And, yeah; I admitted, in the taxi back home ..... Any silly cunt ever turned up offering me £1,500 for my Donks? They'd be out of luck. He's My worthless, hairy skin full of shit. He's mad as fuck. And I love him to bits. Mad fucker's Priceless, to me.

Can't wait to see what Pat ends up with. A fresh packet of minty biscuits is on my shopping list. (These are special, made for horses, minty treats, by the way) I just Love these creatures :-)