I haven’t written much about Wussums recently.  Well, he has settled in well and today surprised me with his new favoured spot.  I came downstairs to find this……

I have no idea how he got there and now none of us can get any milk for our morning coffe/tea.

He knows this and he doesn’t care.  In fact he wants you to come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.

 

Your problems are not his problems.  They are your problems and your responsibility.  He doesn’t think he is stopping you from opening the fridge (though he would probably get a horrid shock if anyone did!)

I love the way his, err, sides (that’s the word) flop over the edge of the fridge.  It is not a big space and certainly not one we ever considered as a potential cat bed.

I could move him if I wanted to but I didn’t so he stayed.  Not because I was intimidated – I want you to know that.

Wussums condescendingly watching the world go by, perfectly balanced.

He was available for brief chats but does have a tendancy for wandering paws at passing heads!

But the best bit was his Nemesis, BeAnne, didn’t know where he was.  WW3 is not over.

And so Wuss sat for most of the morning and, funnily enough, we all had black coffee or tea.

Should you want milk with that drink, then you’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

I have written the blog at least twice today.  I don’t know what to write.  I miss Celt.  I applied for a Whirrier (whippet/terrier) I found on a UK website and they said No because of the R word – Rabbits. I wrote that there are plenty of rabbits to chase stupidly thinking this is what every dog would love. Apparently not.  This makes you into a “hunting” home which is bad.  But there are bunnies everywhere.  It would be more wrong to stop the dogs.  Cruel, even.

Also I said I do not vaccinate and we have rats in Shetland apparently. Yes, we have the odd rat – about one every 10 years – but not like rats in mainland UK.  I am gutted.  This was my perfect dog. I spend the wee small hours looking for the one I want and I thought I had found him.

Personally I do not vaccinate because my dogs do not go anywhere, they do not meet other dogs apart from those that visit and have never ever caught anything. The only time I vaccinated BeAnne for her potential Toto audition, she was horribly ill and miserable and it did her immune system no good at all so I decided her stage debut could wait.

They asked for references and I sent them two – one from my vet who knows us well for all the right reasons.  He walks his dogs here.  But apparently this is not enough.

Dogs want more than this….  apparently.

I realise I probably wrote the wrong things in my enthusiasm on the application and and with that we are out, no questions, no listening, no discussion.  I so wanted to give this little dog the perfect home.  He would’ve been happy with 50 fenced acres to play in and access to so much, much more.

If it is not meant to be, then it isn’t.  Even OH phoned to try and talk to them but *** sigh ***.

I am gutted.  I miss Celt more than words can say.  I see his shadow everywhere. I still wait for him.  He left us not because I did not vaccinate him, not because he ran after rabbits, but because he was 16yo and his body gave out, not his heart.  Why do they have to be so judgemental?

I may have had a drink.

The other day, Jo rode Hetja. She tacked her up and got on. With that Hetja reared.  So why?  She has never done this before but to be fair, we haven’t ridden her much.  Jo had used a better fitting, but longer, saddle on her when she rode her that day and Hetja had reacted. Hmmm….

Is Hetja cold-backed.  What precisely is the definition of cold-backed anyway?  Did the saddle hurt her?  What was the reason?

This is Hetja’s saddle that Jo tried with her?  It rests quite far back but is a good fit.  This is the one she reared in.

So then we looked at her body language while we moved the saddle back…. ooh, she didn’t like that.

We used bribery (bread) as a good way of communicating and also decided to take Hetja over to mine to a) shoe her again and b) try on Taktur/Klængur´s new-to-me 16.5″ Frelsi Saddle which is shorter in the back to see her reaction.

So, today, in the pouring rain, Jo and Fiona brought Hetja over to shoe and to play saddles again.  Poor love was shaking from the rain so they put on Taktur’s rug (he will so love that it smells of girls now) and she heated up and steamed!

Then for trying on the next saddle which seemed a much better fit and shorter in the back.  That saddle is superb – it fits Taktur now, Klængur too and now Hetja.

We deliberated about whether she is in season. Jo popped round the back to find out…..

This is her “I don’t think so” face! (she will kill me for this!)

So on she got to ride her (look – Jo’s happy face!)

Hetja was 100% in every way and fine (Hetja’s happy face too)

So we are thinking it is a too long saddle on her and she doesn’t like it, which is fair enough – we all have our things.  Then we threw Daisy on to see what happened – nothing. Hetja was a dream.

So now I am looking for a medium width 16.5″ Frelsi Black Country saddle, preferably 2nd hand for my beautiful Hetja.  She must be happy, always.  Good fitting saddles are essential.

And those horses have the patience of a saint, if you ask me!

“Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
Ill be watching you”

That would be Zoot’ theme tune if she had one.  She “helps” with everything.  She is always there.

Poor Melinda spends her life running after her bebbie trying to collect her up and take her away to safety.

Sadly, Errant Daughter doesn’t give a damn however and spends most of her life trying to lose her mother or help others.

Today was no exception.  We wanted to tidy up Melinda’s feet.  They were long and we don’t like trimming heavily pregnant mares as it is difficult for them to stand on 3 legs.  Now Melinda has had her foal and she is relatively relaxed about things, we went into the field to trim her feet.  We needed “help”.

So we sacrificed Daisy as per usual to babysitting.  She is good at this and highly trained. Many years of being eaten by foals has created a “foal whisperer”.  At least if she fails university, never gets a job, we can employ her once a year to snog the bebbies.

Zoot showed her obviously inherited speshul skills – so like her father it is uncanny.

We then had a go at doing her feet.  Daisy did the initial training.

Zoot acquiesced without a second thought.

I think Madame is a very smart little girl.

She has Indy’s yummy bum and stands beautifully.  A solid little person too.

Her trot is very eye-catching and she is just like her brothers in character – ie first up to introduce herself.  Always “here to help”.

The orchids are good this year too!

Guess who was next?

Yup, t’was the Bozz-Bozz, who was not exactly excited at the prospect of losing his winter woollies.  In fact, I would go as far as to say, he got in a bit of a strop and annoyed everyone by walking round and round the garden, not dissimilar to a teddy bear.

So we cross-tied him to make our lives easier.  A nice Concert A (twang) on that rope!

It worked for while but Bozz-Bozz stopped cooperating and dramatically threw his teddy out of the cot.

The Moral Support Team were unhelpful to say the least.  They hid in case it was their turn next.

But there are some jobs that have to be done and this would be one of them.  The tats have to go as he is going on a long trip south soon where he doesn’t need his winter coat, if ever.  

So, taking no prisoners, Fiona worked her magic, brushed and pulled while Daisy collected – Yes Bozz-Bozz fur/wool will be for sale if you are interested – email me – frances@fstaylor.co.uk.

You try explaining this to him.  He would have none of it and the bottom-lip sulky face came out.

While Fiona persevered, Jo resorted to the nose-in-a-bunch or nose-twitch.  Needs must when the Devil vomits in your kettle and we were fed up of his behaviour.  It was boring and we needed to get on.  We ask little of him and 15 minutes of his time is not a big deal considering we were turning him into a Handsome Prince.

The endorphins were released and the Bozz-Bozz contained. He lowered his head and the job was finished easily and quickly.  Why he could not do this to start with is beyond me.  We even unclipped the cross-tie.

Taktur was intrigued.  Here was a subdued Bozzer so now was his time to strike but being Taktur he didn’t.  He just came up to laugh and point.

We let Bozzer go after we had finished and he stomped off with his only friend, a chicken, refusing to talk to us again.

But Taktur still wanted revenge and followed him for a bit more pointing and maybe laughing.

To regain his composure, Bozz-Bozz stood in the muck-heap for a more dignified height advantage….

….. whereupon they took up their games again!

I think they will miss each other.