Hovis’ Friday Diary: ‘Why I should be called Sir Hovis of the Floofy Hooves…’

  • Dear Diary

    Sadly the world continues to be a bizarre place with you humans proving yet again there is no creature with a greater capacity for both evil and good – the evil is being seen on your moving pictures around the globe, but the good is what I like to focus on; be it people donating supplies to be driven to the front line for humans and animals alike, be it people donating to appeals like the one I’m running on my pages or countless others, or even the brave men and women heading out to Ukraine to help in any way they can. A wise man once said that all is needed for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing and that’s not happening here, so from the bottom of my hooves, thank you to those of you who are helping in any way you can.

    However, bringing this back to other important issues (and here I mean me to be clear), I should be due a knighthood any time soon. Not only have I raised tens and tens of thousands for a variety of charities and good causes over my 19 years on this planet, but I have also performed one of the most vital roles in equine protection services ever seen; I have been the pretty much sole focus of 15 years of my mother, thus saving other equines from a fate worse than that found in a value lasagne consigned to the “oops” shelf at a hitherto un-named supermarket. Frankly forget my charity work or indeed my philanthropic work ensuring the education of the products of Herman the German Needle Mans loins, THIS is the reason I should be called “Sir Hovis of the Floofy Hooves”…

    Saturday saw me once more take the weight of the world on my shoulders – or in literal terms the weight of mother’s substantial ass on my back (and trust me the world weighs less – the woman needs a grazing muzzle gaffer taped on) as she managed to get her leg over for the first time in more than four months. Which is not an image I’m sure any of you needed, but now you know how I feel…

    To be fair what Aunty Em hadn’t told her when she had regaled her with stories of how well I had behaved of late was that Aunty Em and I walk the equivalent of a marathon before she gets on. Which means I’ve got rid of any and all urges to boing about like Zeebedee on a promise. I do ponder if Aunty Em is now the beneficiary of mother’s life insurance because this was a fairly significant detail to “forget” to mention and was fairly evident the minute mother managed to haul her fat, decrepit body into the saddle without the aid of a crane. I set off with more purpose and speed than a fat fighters’ speed march to Cadbury World, whilst throwing my head about with more gay abandonment than Stevie Wonder doing a L’Oreal advert. And peoples I am SO worth it.

    By this time mother was whimpering like Jimmy Carr’s tax accountant at month end and was more tense than Cummings and goings sitting an eye test. Apparently this was less fear and more pain due to me dislodging the few discs in her back that are even vaguely in the right place with every Timotei moment, but I’m not convinced – the only reason she had her big girl pants on is because they’re the only ones that fit after human box rest. Net result however, Aunty Em ended up putting me on a line to try and keep my head in a sort of helpful location and not either wedged up mother’s nose or between my back legs – seriously these women are the slayers of all joy in my life.

    Eventually I did decide to stop ensuring that mother’s back surgeon has something to keep him occupied for the next few months (although she is now booked in for MRI number 17 so we might have still achieved this) and did manage a few steps of something resembling forward locomotion in an outline. Well three at least.

    Mother’s dismount will not worry Frankie Dettori any time soon but I am rather alarmed by the steely glint in her eye; her body might be broken but she’s the broken embodiment of delusional so I fear for what comes next. Probably stressage. Lots of stressage.

    Send help please – whether for mother or me is debatable.

    If anyone if still wanting to donate to our fundraiser for Ukraine then please do so – every little tiny bit is appreciated. In the meantime, stay safe.


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