Thank you for all your kind words and thoughts yesterday.  While my heart is breaking, you helped put things into perspective. I needed that.

Anywho, today’s words – Floss and I did a quick nip with the van into town this morning to get some more hay.

It’s that time of year – when the grass is thinking about growing but not quite enough for the horses to lose interest or give up their daily haynet.  When they walk away leaving a half-full haynet for the Spring grass then we don’t give them any more hay.  We haven’t quite got there yet.  Another few days, or possibly even weeks.  So I went into town to the hay merchant and bought 16 bales.  It always keeps for emergencies.  We just drove in and came straight back home.  We decided to go when we usually check the horses (doing the Minions en route)- a time when BeAnne sort of expects us to be away in her daily routine and so would not be wondering where we are and missing us. Every minute is precious now.

And then we came home, were met by an extremely pleased BeAnne and we went into my shed for a nice afternoon of making sheep-no-one-wants (that’s what I call them).  It is my occupational therapy.  There is quite a good flock now.

BeAnne is very much on borrowed time now.  We are going day by day and that is what we have.  Her heart is not good.  The vet confirmed it last weekend in an emergency visit.

BeAnne is spending her last days doing what she loves most.

Looking for bunny rabbitses.  Tis the season.

And today she found a lovely little nest.  I sat down on a cold rock and watched her have the best fun she’s had in ages.

My thoughts are if she goes, then she goes enjoying life.

BeAnne successfully dug up two rabbitses, ate one and brought the other home, burying it for later.

She was very pleased with herself and rightly so.  It was lovely to see, if a bit gruesome, but that is what terriers do and what they are bred for so there is no point saying no, being upset or stopping her.  It is my land, my dog and BeAnne has my full permission.

Afterwards we went back to my shed where she went to sleep in front of the fire.  She was very tired and had a good long sleep.

So that’s where we are.  Every day is a blessing and that’s all we can think.

Somewhere in Shetland there is a little faat black pony who loves dancing in all the water buckets left out for him and his friends by his kind and extremely tolerant owner and rescuer.

He just can’t help himself – like a moth to a flame….

Waffle only has to see a bucket of water and whoosh, he’s in like Esther Williams but without the flowery swimming hat.

Yes, Waffle, the finger points at you.  He is definitely the culprit, despite looking incredibly innocent and rarely caught on film comitting this heinous crime.

These are the preferred buckets, kindly filled daily with fresh water because of said dancing and they are always empty when we find them.

Luckily no one has to rely on this water because there are numerous streams, ditches and even a whole loch-full of water in the adjoining field below.

Which is lucky really because absolutely no one is talking to Waffle or He Who Dances in Water Buckets – that would be his Native American name if he had one.

Absolutley no one!

We had a go at trimming Hetja’s hooves.  It wasn’t easy.  She’s a big girl by our standards and was fairly unhelpful too. It made us realise that Shetland ponies are much easier to trim and also much more co-operative.  Well, mine are.  Having said that, we haven’t trimmed Newt yet so we may change our minds on that score. The night is still young.

Again, Daisy was on clippers and I was on rasp duties and we did our best, despite some severe leaning and snatching back of her hinds.  And yes, I did bollock her for this.

However, I think we did a good job. Like I said, Hetja was not helpful and we climbed back into the car feeling like we had been in a rugby match.  It jolly nearly killed us both.  Only another billion to trim (well, that’s what it feels like anyway).

I have renamed Hetja the Heffalump Cowbag!