Nightmare

Slept in very late this morning and am angry with myself; I hate doing that. Had a sleepless night.

Friend N, whose Dales pony died of colic earlier in the year after surgery a few years back, has finally got herself a new horse. Sweet guy, Irish sports horse but more tb than anything else, and they clicked straight away. It was good to see N with a smile on her face at last, as she'd taken the loss of the pony particularly hard. Last night the new horse went down with colic.

Leahurst said he had an impaction and displacement. As it was, a twist was avoided and the impaction, thought to be caused by eating straw, began to move - but what a horrible, cruel thing to happen.

He's being allowed out for a few hours on grass this afternoon - will see how he goes. Bastard, hateful colic.

Rain

There is nothing quite so infuriating as a smug horse.

We got the whiplash tailend of Hurricane Katia, which came from nowhere out of a cloudless blue sky. I had just finished laying the Ed bed, stringing haynets, filling his snackball and putting down fresh water for morning. Vicki had barely left the yard to do some work with Ed when shavings started whirling around the stable - and the rain came! It blew horizontally across the yard, and in the few seconds it took me to close the door I was soaked through. Vicki and Eddie reappeared on the yard - Ed sixteen hands and bouncing on the spot, and the only course of action was for the three of us to take shelter in the stable.

Ed was delighted, as he wolfed down tomorrow's breakfast, emptied his snackball and laid into fresh haylage all over again, while we shivered in wet clothes and glumly watched the rain coursing off the gutters outside. He got away without doing any work either, as by the time the weather abated we just threw him out for the night with a full belly and went squelching home.

Leave Me Alone

Ed had the equine dentist yesterday, which left him in a thoroughly bad mood, making faces at everything and everyone all afternoon. It's about the twelfth visit he's had from the EDT; he's always been impeccably behaved but he wasn't keen this time, and even hid behind me like a small child. Did he think the man with the electric file wouldn't find him if he hid his head behind my backside?

He'd brightened up by turning-out time and did a little dance on the spot before walking off. I think that may have meant, "No fillings this time, Mum."

It's Your Life

Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself.
Harvey Fierstein