So, Mother got a van to haul the donkeys in. More precisely it is a minivan, and only one or maybe two donkeys will fit at a time.
Mother has taken Julia to the park to drive, and she took Clementine there to walk around and see the sights and learn about bicycles and rollerblades and whatnot.
I have been staying home, trapped in the Small with no out-back privileges due to the burrs. Mother spent a few hours deburring and braiding me, and said she wasn't doing it again, so I have been relegated to the donkey pen when the red mare herd goes out in the back pasture.
Mother is losing the Mother of the Year award, I'm telling you.
I guess I shouldn't have made that comment about getting cookies and not having to work. Mother caught me up first, and brushed me and picked hooves then took me out to the multipurpose... where I was obliged to trot around on the lungeline a while.
And I got no cookies, mind you.
Mother then proceeded to torture Ellie Mae by hitching her to the cart and expecting her to drag Mother around in it. It was vaguely amusing to watch.
Mother took Julia for a drive, too. She says Julia was very good... then SHE got cookies! Where is the fairness, I ask?
Never mind that Mother offered me the cookies... I just don't like that kind. She SHOULD have gone and gotten my Mrs. Pastures.
Aunt Jeni came up this weekend, and drove Julia around. I got quite a few cookies, though, and I didn't have to work for them, so all in all it was a nice visit.
Mother and the Aunties brought in a round bale for us today. YAY! Hay at all times. They are talking about getting a small house for round bales so they won't have to crowd it into our run-in. I don't know what that means, but I love round bales, and eating outside would be nice.
So, Mother got this device that she wears around her front limb
called a FatBat. Apparently it has another name, but Mother says since she is
fat and not fit that this is more appropriate.
says it tells her that she sleeps a lot, eats too much, and how much
activity she may have done. She says that even though it doesn't make
any sound, she can hear it telling her, "Take the stairs, Fatty."
What does Fat Donkey have to do with this?
It apparently caused her to take one of the donks for a walk the other day.
Do you get credit for brushing me, Mother? Or keystrokes on the computer?
I know, I know, I've been rather reclusive of late. Blame it on Mother. She comes up and does stalls or feeds us, but doesn't always bother to give me cookies (scandalous) or even, really, play with me at all.
Mother stopped up this evening, and took pictures of us and the new mare and gave us cookies. Unfortunately, the internet is not cooperating and it is taking forever to load pictures, so this one will have to get you by until Mother figures it all out. This is still my beautiful Belle, by the way. That pesky new Bobbie is around here somewhere...
Really, Mother? Of all the days to come up here with the camera, you choose this one?
It is gross and muddy out. I am gross and muddy. And you document this on film?
I mean, I'm sure my readership is pleased to see proof of life and all that. All two of them. But I am filthy. And the location makes me look butt high and sway backed! I'm only 14! Not even yet fourteen.
And the after pictures...
I really don't see any difference. Do you??
Just let me out of here.
I never thought I'd say this, but I need a bath.
Why don't you just go off and fuss over the chickens. They're all you care about lately, anyway. I don't see how they're useful...
Hannah, the chicken.
Bathsheba, the chicken. Ruth and Naomi are around here somewhere, too.
Shedding season is once again upon us. Mother pulled me into the barn and attacked me with the shedding blade. I say attacked, because I've never really experienced the shedding blade before, and I am not entirely sure that I like it.
Mother has always been a little anti-shedding blade, because she believes it dulls the coat. She decided, however, that since I am grey I don't really shine anyway. So this year she determined to take the easy way out.
She raked the curved metal along my flesh, and I was displeased.
Mother, please be civilized and go get the curry comb.
Mother was up and brushing me the other day. Even though the weather is still wintry, she noted I am starting to loose hair.
Half the fun for Mother of my greyness is that she never knows exactly what I will look like once I am done shedding. My mane, tail, and sort of my legs have been hanging on to their darkness, but the rest of me is varying stages of fleabitten and vaguely dappled.
It's good to keep her guessing... and apparently you, as well, as the last picture she's taken of me is from early October:
How am I supposed to be a super-model if my photographer never has a camera?
In ways that I can't fathom, you humans say it is 2015. I just know it's the beginning of winter. I am looking forward to the snow, but looking forward to the grass of summer even more.
Mother is even MORE of an absentee owner during the winter, what with the shorter days and less than pleasant weather. But my Aunties are reliable with the food stuffs, and I have my Belle and donkeys, so if I have to wait a few days longer than I would like for the cookie lady to show up, ah, well.
I am a fifteen year old horse named Boyfriend, sometimes Bif. Sometimes "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown". Sometimes names I really don't think bear repeating. After years of misappropriating mother's phone and email, I now have my own site.
Have a question for me? Please email me Boyfriend@IamBoyfriend.com
All of the stuff under My Favorite Grazing Places and Mother's Favorite Sites are unpaid (why would I need money?), Mother just really likes them and likes to share. She can be a generous sort, at times...
Mother's other blog: A tale of love and blah blah blah. Not me.