My New Year Party is Ruined

I had it all planned, the pink champagne fountain, canapes, a few special guests such as the Scottish stumpies. The invitations had gone out and my New Year party was going to be the talk of the county.

I was just coming in to get into my glad rags when it all went pear shaped. Or Rosie shaped.

She just had to do it to mess things up!

Mum had come to bring us in for an early evening supper before we got down to the serious Hogmanay celebrations. Line the stomach and all that before we taste some malts later on. Rosie was standing there, one leg dangling - naturally blocking the way so NONE of us could get in, talk about being inconsiderate, if you are going to break you leg in the field could you do it without any inconvenience to your field mates.

Mum in a panic runs down the hill - leaving us all standing (well all of us except Rosie)- shouting at dad to ring vet and tell him to bring a gun (remember Rosie is needle phobic of course). Comes back, tries to get Rosie to move, but she can't, I have, at this moment a tiny soupcon of sympathy for the old trout, as she is wincing in pain and almost in tears. She just cannot put her leg down and stand on it. It doesn't look good I have to say.

In the end, we clever donkeys manage to squeeze past her and come in for our supper! After all, if the silly trout is going to be shot, I'm not going to miss my dinner for that - i saw enough death at the death camp in France, so excuse me if I am not as upset as all that.

Molly is eventually brought in, but dad doesn't take her rug off, as she is in a complete tizz without Rosie and charging at the door, so the best thing is to get her in and just close it. Molly refuses to eat her dinner, box walks and turns her stable into a sauna. Which was very good hearted of her as it is sub zero up here. Molly can usually be relied upon to do the right thing and have some community spirit.

Mum has by now taken three more of Rosie's rugs down to her - as the old biddy was going into shock and was so cold - and also her dinner so that if she is going to be shot, she at least has something to eat first. Very considerate I think. They were gone for such a long time, it is so cold out there, I am worried for mum as she wasn't wearing her proper outdoor clothes! Just a skimpy blouse under her jacket.

She manages to drag Rosie up the walkway to about 50 yards from the barn, so at least she isn't in the dark and the lights can illuminate her. I hear her begging Rosie to try to walk, as if she is to be saved she has to get to the stables or it is useless. I can hear her crying and pleading with Rosie but Rosie can't move, she just can't take another step, she is swaying and unsteady and very worried.

Finally the vet arrives, declares that Rosie is a big Jessie and it doesn't look like a fracture. With a bit of encouragement and shoving Rosie finally comes into the barn, still very very scared and sore. The vet clips her leg, dresses a very very deep wound, and leaves me to the ruins of my party.

Rosie is very sore, very worried, she grunts a lot, won't eat. Molly is by now dripping with sweat, and eyes popping out of her head, mum spends the next two hours trying to get her dry and not quite so warm.

I start ringing my guests - party cancelled.

Lights are out by 11pm - I think of what might have been! I am booking up for a cruise next year.