Today I needed a change of scenery.  I didn’t want to be at home.  I wanted to see a completely different place so Flossie and I headed off to Whalsay – the sixth largest island of the Shetland Islands.

It is also known locally as “The Bonnie Isle”.

We were visiting an old friend and so, first things first, we went to find some lunch.  There was a pop-up Café at Livister Youth & Community Centre.

(These are the photos after a herd of folk had swarmed by for lunch and/or take-away)

We easily found a spare table and had a delicious lunch.  There had obviously been some serious cake-making and so we had to do it justice.  Only polite, really!

Homemade soup, amazing homebakes with decent portions.  We were stuffed!

Afterwards, we went for a drive.  Whalsay is situated on the east side of Shetland.  It is a peat-covered island, with history going back to Neolithic times.

Our guide, friend and native Shetlander told us that these small traditional circular stone enclosures are called “Planticrubs”.  They were used in Shetland for sheltering and raising young cabbage plants.

We drove around the island – it didn’t take long – 7.6 square miles.

Whalsay is only 30 minutes by ferry from the mainland, which can be a tad bouncy.

Anyway, it was nice to be away from home.  Daisy was kindly holding the fort as well as Her Maj.  We did not bring her cake and now I feel bad but I doubt it would’ve made it home.

I am sitting here in shock.

This time 24 hours ago, we had two perfectly healthy dogs.

Now only BeAnne sits at my feet.

I don’t know where to begin really.  Everything was normal.  Loki had his usual normal day – breakfast, loafing about, a good long walk, and then in the late afternoon Daisy found him lying by my desk (unusual for him) while I was out.

Loki refused his tea at 17:00 – something not right but he eats everything around outside and in so we weren’t too worried.

While we ate our supper (19:00), he walked into the kitchen to be with us but by 10:00 when I wanted the dogs to go out, he couldn’t stand at all.  We phoned the on-call vet and took him straight in to the surgery.

The vet examined Loki and said he thought he was anaemic (but the blood results came back fine) and stuck a needle into Loki’s abdomen.  The first time he drew out blood, the second nothing and the third, again, blood.

A drip was set up and Loki just lay there.  They x-rayed and operated on Loki.  I was phoned at 02:30 and told Loki didn’t make it.  A small tumour had been removed from his spleen but he died while he was being sewn up. Loki felt no pain and I believe this because he never reacted to anything.  He was the type of dog that would.

I just don’t understand what happened. I can’t get my head around it.  It is sort of the same thing that happened to Wussums.  What am I doing wrong?  Is there a connection?  We are all very numb.

Loki was 6 years old.  It is not fair.

Goodnight Loki.  Run free.  You were loved.

Today I had this sudden urge and found myself in the indoor school with a strong desire to clear up the tack area.

I have no idea why I needed to do this.  I am probably ill.  Very ill.

There was one bit I left – the place where we are throwing our old plastic bale wrap plus any other rubbish and, once we have come to the end of the silage, it will all be bundled into the van and taken to the Recycling Centre,

Here are the carts, ready to go to their respective new homes.

Another pile to be thrown away and the floor swept.  Get me.   Dangerously ill, I tell you!

We are coming to the end of our silage – four more bales.  We get through about bale a week so hopefully it will last until the grass decides to put in an appearance.  The salmon net and tyre effect worked brilliantly and we have had no bird-peck holes and very little ruined.

After the massive tidy-up, I took Haakon into the school and we had a nice ride.  We practiced our halts, which has never been a strong point.  Haakon hates stopping and the first one resulted with me riding him into a wall until he stopped!  Then I reversed him back to the actual dressage letter I had originally wanted him to stop at and after that he realised I meant business.

Then BeAnne and I went for our daily hike as my back ached from all the sweeping and general rubbish sorting.

We were chased by the rain but it was still beautiful.

We got home dry and I still ache.

We all have a lot on our plate at the moment. Much to think about.

It is family stuff so, as it was raining, I went for a drive.

I needed to get some perspective and do some thinking.

I have my favourite route so I put the windows down, the heater on full blast and stopped occasionally to take photos of the beautiful, if soggy, Shetland scenery, flora and fauna.

Yay, to th oystercatchers – there just isn’t much sign of Spring and they usually bring it with them.  Perhaps they’ve made a serious misjudgement coming home.

When it is persisting down, there is a limit to how much time I can spend with my animals outside. I only have so many waterproofs.

Obviously we feed the horses and ponies but riding a soggy horse, even in an indoor school, is a miserable affair and very uninspiring.

So that would be my riding mojo – it made a brief appearance – now floating away.

I enjoyed my drive.  It was peaceful and I got some thinking done.

I found two Eriskay ponies eating hay.

I think they are rather special.

And then I wended my way home.

This is my soggy lot.  I really feel for them but it’s not that cold and they are eating huge piles of silage twice a day.

Apparently it might stop raining next week.

Every morning I put a headcollar on Lambie (back-to-front – it makes a very good harness) and lead him, with his friends following, out into the paddock where Albie and Newt live.  There is also a gate open to a much larger field so everyone can roam further if they want to.  The shed door is also shut (unless there is adverse weather and shelter is required) so no one can just stand in the shed.  They all have to go out and get jobs!

This afternoon, everyone had come home and there was loitering.

Lambie was practising his “Garbo” – ever the professional.

I asked the sheeple if they wanted out, ie to go to their night-time abodes – and they didn’t need asking twice.

This left the two little boys.

Newt is a hairy little yak in his winter woollies.

Albie is growing up quickly and looks a very smart little boy.

Someone asked me if Newt was this year’s foal.   He isn’t.  He is the same age as Albie – nearly 2 whole years old and 28″ high.

Newt struggles with bad hair days.

I feel his pain.  Come the summer, he will be glorious again.  I remind him of this every day.

Obviously I came out armed and of course I distributed my largesse – a carrot each, which was duly appreciated.

Newt insisted on taking his to a bog to eat it!  I give up.