Hovis’ Friday diary: I’m on box rest I’m allowed some fun…

Dear diary,

So, she-who-must-be-obeyed is in mum-bye again this week meaning I have a whole weekend with her in merciful absence while she wafts around the globe making grown men weep just for fun. It does mean the boss lady, dad and mini-mother are all thinking that they’re in charge but we all know who really rules the roost around here. Yep mini-mother…

This last weekend saw me yet again having to deal with the young pretender and his rather amateur antics. After he jet propelled mini-mother through the air like a small pink missile the other weekend then the boss lady has been introducing him to circles. Lots and lots of circles. And transitions. Lots and lots of transitions. And ground work. Lots and lots of ground work. I have laughed myself horse I can tell you. He was lunged ahead of mini-mother getting back on him on Saturday and then made to do so many transitions I started to think my old friend Carl Nester had been incarnated in the body of a six-year-old blonde with a penchant for pink. What’s even funnier is that the boss lady has been heard commenting that he has nice paces for a poncing pint-sized pony (well she maybe didn’t say the poncing pint-sized bit, but I’m sure she was thinking it). He thought that was a good thing. I have one thing to say to the black and white bog-brush: “Welcome to the world of stressage, Stanley”.

We have also discovered he is an even bigger girls’ blouse than some of my previous brothers have been and let’s face it, Poofbags takes some beating in the “being a wuss” stakes. The bijou bovine doesn’t like scissors or clippers, or it appears anything that buzzes or makes funny noises. Teeth time with Evil Army Man is going to be positively hilarious to the extent I’m thinking of ordering popcorn and selling tickets. EAM bettered 900kg of 18hh Irish imbecile with one hand and without losing his cigarette so a bite-sized black and white bovine burger is going to be no issue at all. I shall enjoy the spectacle though — just as I enjoyed the mothership doing 20 minutes of “you will back up and yield to me you little hooligan” on Friday night. I am discovering that when you’re not on the receiving end of both the wrath and the lead rope it’s actually highly enjoyable to watch. My bum quite enjoyed the reprieve of it not being the recipient too. Such fun!

Scaredy cat Stanley is at least not scared of water which was the only thing he didn’t royally wee himself over at the weekend as he was subjected to a mini-mother “wash”; AKA being covered in soap suds while she enthusiastically wafts a scrubbing brush near your feathers and soaks the surrounding area in water. Judging by the frankly almost suicidal look on dad’s face I think he was praying for divine intervention, dry socks and a sudden interest from the child in anything other than equines.

Apparently, I am going to be used to desensitise the cowardly coblet by showing him these things will not kill him and thus that as a big brother if I can do it so can he. I am so very tempted to throw myself onto the floor at the first sight of the clippers and start violently twitching. If I didn’t think that may signal the end of my life on earth before I get to achieve everything I have set out to do, then it would almost be worth it just to see the look on mother’s face. I’m not that brave to be honest.

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The crater in my foot is still large enough to entertain the most intrepid of potholers but according to Herman the German Needle Man it is healing nicely. I’m still be subjected to an every-other-day bandage change as a motley team of mother, the boss lady and dad unscrew the bolts, take the plate off my foot and re-dress all while I am distracted by treats. I don’t think the Formula One pit teams have anything to be worried about to be honest — I’ve seen copulating snails move with more speed. There is a joke to be had here about having a screw loose, but it would be cheap and we all know I’m high class…

So, I’m off to think about the best way to deal with the lack of bravery of the black and white bovine bog-brush brother and fantasise about actually getting to see grass sometime in 2019.

Stay tuned to my Facebook pages for upcoming announcements coming soon. And yes, I am a tease. And no, I don’t care — I’m on box rest I’m allowed some fun…

Laters,

Hovis

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