Rosie Does Pink Nose Day

Never mind Red Nose Day, it's Pink Nose Day for Rosie. It's the time of year when that dreaded muzzle comes out of its box and onto the Rosie conk. Sadly March/April are her trigger months for laminitis, and having had this horrible disease twice, and been box rested for more than 18 months in total, she doesn't want to have it again.

Rosie's choices are stark - don't eat grass, or very little of it or die. Very simple really. It makes managing her a perpetual fight against nature, as Rosie loves grass. But it makes her tootsies so sore and one of these days she could have such a bad attack that it would be the bad lorry for Rosie as she won't recover. The pictures taken of her tootsies show that the bones in her hooves really don't like grass, and when they get upset, it causes her immense pain, and she has to stay in the stable, for months on end, with painkillers, and lots of bedding under her poor feet to make them less sore. The last time it happened, mum said it cost her almost £100 in getting lots of bedding to make what they call a deep litter, about 18 inches deep, so that Rosie was on all this nice soft wood shavings, that acts as a big cushion for her sore sore toes.

So she has choices to make - no muzzle and turned into what is currently Spencer's Naughty Paddock - this is a bare muddy paddock with no grass on it. When Spencer strays out of the special sheep field and comes into the stables looking for company, he is put in the naughty paddock until whatever time the next sheep feeding takes place - he then goes back following the feed bucket to his friends. He even spent an overnight in the naughty paddock, as after dinner, he jumped through the fence and came down to the barn to see if there was anything else to eat. Dim he is, he forgets about the loneliness of the naughty paddock until he is back in it again, then he remembers for about 48 hours, then forgets again.

This could be the Rosie Rescue paddock she could live in there with no muzzle and eat hay - boring, and it will get very muddy particularly if she and Spencer decide to charge around together. It is very small, but perfectly appointed with good views and a strong fence.

Another alternative is that an electric fenced small paddock is put in one of the donkey paddocks, so she can be in there and only have a little bit to eat of fresh grass and the fence gets moved every now and then. The disadvantage of this is it is a lot of work for mum and dad, having to keep moving the fence, and if the daft neddy decides to walk through it, jump over it or whatever and get into the lovely new grass, it could be curtains for her.

The current alternative is that she goes into the big field, as usual with the rest of us, but she wears the pink muzzle. She can run around and be free, and she can eat, but it slows her down a huge amount, so she gets very little grass, then she comes home at night and eats her hay and that tops her up. This is usually her preferred health care option though she doesn't like this pink muzzle at all.

It had to be a pink one as she learnt how to undo the black one, broke the straps and generally worked out how to lose it and it is very hard to find in a very big field....mum says the last time it got lost it took her over an hour to find it...so this very bright pink one should be easier at least.

Rosie spends a lot of time working out how to remove the muzzle - she can stand on the bit behind her chin and then raise her head and hope this undoes the velcro strap that goes behind her ears. She can get down and roll vigorously and hope that she can dislodge it.

There is a much easier way but we haven't told her yet. She could ask an obliging young donkey to grab the strap and pull it over her ears and off. Given my talents for undressing Ferguson and removing his rugs - whether he wants me to or not - taking Rosie's muzzle off would pose no difficulty whatsoever to an intelligent donkey like the Vodka. But it is much more fun to tease the silly girl, particularly as she came into MY stable tonight and tried to eat my treacly mineral lick - now that is completely out of order. At one stage Rosie, Aimee, Ferguson and I were all fighting for the mineral lick in my stable and Dad was trying very hard to get the raiding Rosie out of our stable. Of course a treacly sugary lick is also not good for Rosie's laminitis, it is almost the equine equivalent of death by chocolate.

Mum arrives, fixes Rosie with a look, clicks fingers and Rosie wanders off into her own stable. Mum says she is taking the Michael. But where do they take the Michael to? I am confused. Does he go on the bad lorry?

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To - Happy Birthday Vodka

It's the official birthday of Vodka Donkey today, a year ago exactly I arrived in Dumfries & Galloway at my new home and met the Scottish stumpies Aimee and Ferguson.

I was an emaciated wreck of a donkey then, lights out, at the end of the road mentally, I had given up on life totally and whatever was to happen, get it over with. I had wintered out in France and was so thin, there was just a skeleton with some mangy fur on top. You could see every single bone in my body I was so so poor. Everyone cried when they saw me.

Now I am a fat pudding, groomed and sleek and no tangles in my long coat. My lights are on full beam and I have found my horn as well! On Friday, I did lots of galloping and bucking and kicking just to show how well I am and how happy I am. Poor Fergusin got chased up and down, with his little short legs trying to go faster, as I swung from his neck leaving teeth marks. N.B. must try to be more careful with Ferguson as he is tiny and I am so much faster.

I go out during the day into a big field and come in at night to a warm bed and my food which I have learnt is for sharing, not just for Vodka. I have rugs for all weathers (some I don't quite approve of as no one took me to the shops to let me select the colour and style) and generally I have nothing much to complain about, except perhaps getting my feet trimmed - I feel I should be going to a beauty salon but this man comes and wrestles with my feet and I don't appreciate it - I see myself in a chair, feet up, having my hair done, tooties painted pink etc.....oh well.

I was promised a party but I said no. I have everything I need or want thank you.

So for me, Vodka the sensitive kind donkey, it's a day to reflect on MY good fortune. I got the magic spankled banner that said reserved and from then on, since Robert came and picked me up, I have known nothing but kindness and love. I may not always understand what is being said to me, but I understand that I was SAVED and rehabilitated and given a future.

My life is now one big party, I am free to do what I want every day, with my friends, even if sometimes the weather doesn't cooperate. Instead, today I am going to think about all my friends who didn't get saved, who did go on the bad lorry and who will continue to go on the bad lorry - I know that my life changed forever when I appeared on the ES site and someone out there wanted to help me. I don't need balloons, carrots, apples, cakes, all I needed was that special spangled banner that said Reserved. If I had a cake and blew out the candles, my wish would be for all the horses in the world to have a special spangled banner to protect them all their lives - do wishes come true?

Sam Kills A Robin

Mum is very upset today - she has been feeding the wild birds and has two robins who come for feeding, one of them was a plump, friendly bird who flew in and out of the barn, eating corn, generally being very interested in what we are doing.

This morning Sam the cat comes trotting into the office with the robin in his mouth....sadly it was dead.

Oh dear, what to do, feed them and put them at risk or not feed them so they will stay away.

If only Sam would take an interest in the rodent population.

Woolly Jumpers - The Black Sheep of the Family

This is Spencer, in disgrace, renamed Houdini.

He is a lamb on a mission, to destroy gardens, and generally be a pest. Mum says this is a very dangerous thing for a lamb to be.....And there is a very convenient market 20 miles away where he could go on a one way trip.....

Of course we all know that she wouldn't do it.

Woolly Jumpers - The Rest of the Gang

Here is a nice picture of the gang all together.

The litte guy on the far left is Frank, then Marks, then Noona, with the black sheep of the family, Spencer.

Woolly Jumpers - Betty Spencer

This is Betty Spencer, she is the flock leader and a very smart sheep.

She takes no nonsense from anyone and is a very calm and focussed herd leader who keeps the young ram raiders in line.

Five Ba Gate

Spencer, our black sheep of the family (who happens to be white) is in big trouble again.

He has continued to leap through the gate and try to eat the newly planted willow.....

Even when the fence is electrified, he managed to squeeze between the top bar and the second bar - very skillful.

Now today it was very very cold with snow and generally freezing - me I wanted to come in from the field early as it seemed daft to be out there in the snow, ankles numb, when I could be indoors, with a big haynet and warm and toasty.

Mum and dad spent ages, putting in another strand all along the electric fence, and then putting two more of these gate thingies on so it is now a five ba gate - we'll see if he gets through this.

Otherwise I can see the lamb chop and mint sauce option looming......

Ziggy Is Not Up To The Job

Our chief feline rodent office, Ziggy, the daft Burmese blue, has failed in his duties to protect the barn from rodent invasion. As you can see from the picture above, Ziggy may be in the wrong job.

His excuse is that he is understaffed, overworked, unpaid, never gets a day off, and the recruitment campaign to find him some helpers has failed miserably, as the two daft feral kittens have turned into stay at home don't go out lazy cats, and the one that is willing to come outdoors and patrol is daft as a brush and in terms of rodent control as useless as a chocolate teapot. He makes so much noise announcing he is there, that the mice have plenty of time to leave home and find a safe place out of the way of a feline inspection.

Sam the black and white Felix cat is exactly like the one on TV, daft, google eyes, full of fun, not a brain cell to rattle. Fudge, his brother, is Horatio from CSI Miami, so laid back he is horizontal. Fudge's idea of a heavy day is posing in a sunbeam, with our without his sunglasses. Bunny, the other black and white one, is dangerous outside - climbing up trees, falling out of trees (trip to vet Bank Holiday Monday) - falling in ponds (discovering that despite belief cats do not walk on water...). She is best to stay inside as it keeps the vet bills down though lying on the hob is not the best idea - fortunately it has a child lock on it and Bunny so far hasn't worked out how to remove it. Lying on top of the Aga only works for a while then there is a distinct singeing of Bunny fluff. She and Sam have a lot in common in the Mensa department.

The latest rodent control failure happened yesterday - Mum had to move the lawnmower when our hay was delivered, under the lawnmower she found a nest of mice. Tiny baby mice, eyes not even open yet. Being a softy, she put them in a safe place in the hope their mum would come back for them. But as she says, when you employ a team of rodent control professionals, and give them board and lodging, you expect results.

Ziggy's explanation is that of course being a mere cat, he is not expected to tunnel through concrete under the mower in order to unearth a nest of mice. While he has a point about that, the mice have got so complacent that they are even committing suicide by jumping into water buckets and drowning themselves. Mum says she really does not appreciate seeing this first thing in the morning.

Maybe a job for Spencer.

Ziggy would like to post some pictures of his co-workers so that you can evaluate their suitability as serious rodent control operatives.

We Are Invaded By Aliens

They arrived stealthily and without warning.

There was a lot of bleating and then suddenly we saw their weapons - sharp horns......Ouchy ouchy ouchy.

A large ram, his 4 wives and six little baby goats came to squat in our paddock. They had evidently decided they didn't like living where they were and had gone searching for pastures new and found our field!

I was very very curious about them, wanting to get close to them but there was a fence in the way so all I could do was watch them skipping around and bleating and posing on the top of rocks. Very cute.

Eventually their owner showed up and took them away - mum was sad as I think she secretly fancied adding them to the flock. The little babies looked very wooly and cuddly - ok not as cute as the Vodka donkey but sweet nevertheless.

Maybe they will be back....

Vodka Sweeps Floor

Mum is always complaining about the state I get myself in. With my lovely luxurious long coat, I can do a fair impression of a yard brush.....every night, being a tired donkey who has come in after a long arduous day out in the field, eating grass, running around, bracing myself against the nasty snowflakes and biting wind, I get down and dirty.

Literally. Every morning there I am covered in shavings and worse. Sometimes I lie down in things that even I am not particularly keen on. Mum says I am a bit ripe at times with a sort of yellow tinge.....All this of course due to the lack of accommodation - I have suggested before that we need a mezzanine for Ferguson and Aimee so that I can have the entire downstairs.

Here is a picture of before, and after I have been groomed.....

Spencer the Showjumping Lamb

Those sheep. I am sick of them.

There is one of them, Spencer, who is a Leicester Blue Cross - why he is cross I have no idea as I am the one who is cross.

He doesn't think he is a sheep. Not sure what he thinks he is but it entails following us about, sneaking in from the field, coming into my stable. He was in there tonight, mum was taking our coats off - we had snow today - and there he was, bleating away about something or other and try to reach my manger - fortunately it is Vodka donkey height so too high for a stupid sheep. Wherever you turn, there he is, Ram Raiding the feed bins, generally being a nuisance.

Mum and Dad have spent a lot of time landscaping around our field so that it is nice for me when I walk past. In time there will be nice willow hedges - protect me from the wind - and there are lots of nice rowan trees, birch trees, all sorts of things to make our field area look nice and posh. I have advised on the planting of course and it looks pretty good to me.

Of course the downside of that is that we are not supposed to eat any of the things that have been planted. I find this a bit tiresome, as for example a nice bit of beech hedge - you can't beat it for flavour. Trust me I know. Green or copper beech, this is a firm favourite with donkeys.

To protect the planted areas, there is a triple strand electric fence - so donkey proof sadly unless you are wearing a full armour rug and are very careful with the nose and head - and the gateway has 4 springy coil things that pull across and give you a zap if you get too close - mum is always zapping herself I think she gets more benefit from the electric fence than the rest of us put together.

Now getting back to this Spencer fellow. He is a wooly jumper and wooly jumpers have a very thick fleece that pretty much insulates them from being zapped. It only really works on him if he is daft enough to touch it with his nose. Betty, one of the other sheep, did that and she did a lot of bucking and kicking afterwards!

Anyway, he jumps THROUGH the strands - mum saw him jump about 2'6 and in between the top two coils of wire - pretty zippy I think. She is contemplating a new career for him at local shows as a showjumper.

He was also caught wandering about with a large bit of willow in his chops - now chops is something that could be produced if he continues to be a naughty boy. Mum is still smarting from the fact that when he had to have his bits off, they could only find one, so he had to go to a proper hospital and have major surgery to find the other one....she is not impressed by the idea that she may have to pay a lot of money to Spencer proof the fencing, given how much she has already spent on electric fencing it....People kept suggesting that he would be good in the freezer - don't understand that myself unless it's where they keep the pina colada and things like that.

Spencer, if I were you, I would give up ideas of Hickstead or Olympia and go back to being a sheep. Mum says you are on very very last warnings...

Vodka Has A Nasty Accident

I was so close to being petfood again!

I was in my stable, having my dinner, and I still don't know how I did it, but I managed to get my front leg through one of the holes in the haynet. The haynet was quite high off the ground, and the net went all round my ankle.

Problem was, I couldn't then put my foot back on the ground or get it free so I had to stand like that, trussed up, with my front leg bent back under itself, until I was rescued at breakfast time.

Mum was very upset - she said that it was a good job I am a sensible donkey and just stood still until I could be released, as if I had panicked, and thrown myself around to try to get free, I could have fallen over, or broken my leg. She says that they can't mend broken donkey legs as they can with humans, and that a nice vet would have had to come out and finish me off.

Didn't fancy that at all - bad enough escaping being made into salami but to top yourself? Bit careless I think.

I will have to be more careful. I am a famous donkey these days and it is important that I look after myself.....