Dear diary,

Well the wait might be over — today might just be the day I get my freedom! Later today two big things happen, one after the other: firstly is the long awaited return of Cool New Shoes Man and then Herman the German comes to give me the once over then discuss “the next steps” with the mothership.

For those of you who didn’t know, Cool New Shoes Man has had a bit of a health hiccup and has absolutely trumped mother; she moans about selling one of her kidneys to pay for my up-keep but has never done it. Cool New Shoes Man did indeed lose one of his so I’m assuming he’s bringing the profits for me today? Anyway, he’s been on box rest himself and is now on restricted turn out. I’m not sure shoeing me counts as restricted anything but he’s telling mum he’s fit to work. Mum and dad went to see him when he was in his stable but I’ve not seen him for weeks — mum says I’m not allowed to lean on him and have to look out for my fellow injured male but I’m sure he will welcome a good Hovis hug — hopefully minus the snogging that usually occurs…

So when I’ve had a pedicure for the first time in weeks, spent some quality time with one of my favourite people and traded some war stories about wounds then I await the arrival of Herman. He too has been busy (well his wife has) having a little baby so no doubt he will be moaning about the night time activities. One could point out it was other night time activities that led to this current situation…

Anyway Herman is coming to have a council of war with mother and make some decisions about what next for me. Mother, dad and mini-mother go on holiday next week so they’re deciding whether I stay on box rest until mum gets back or whether I go into a small paddock. Please, please can you all send “small paddock” vibes to mother and Herman for me? I want GRASS! Mum brings me some at the weekends but I want to chomp it down myself. I promise faithfully, crossing my feathers and hooves that I will behave. I will not piaffe, pirouette or participate in prancing of any form. Promise.

Continued below…

In fairness, after my attempted escape the other week and one minor moment of forgetting myself and attempting to kiss mother with a nose that resembled something from the black lagoon, I have behaved this past week. This was mainly due to having company in the form of the small ginger dude who was in after his mum worried about him looking a touch “footy” — I’m not sure what “footy” is but I was hoping it wasn’t contagious — I’ve got enough problems of my own. Anyway he had to come off the grass for a while so he was in with me during the day and then his mate, the even littler dude, and my girl Dolly came in at night. I was so relieved not to be subjected to Classic FM that I decided to be the model patient and thus stand there looking smug while ginger dude got shouted at for kicking the door down.

Mother thanked me by worming me.

Mother is a bovine of epic proportions…

So wish me luck for today and I’m sure mother will keep you posted. I think she will be around for me to update you via my diary next week before she jets off on holiday but for up-to-date bulletins, stay posted to Facebook.

Laters,

Hovis