Storm Jorge is just finishing up.  There are no words.  There are also no more dry waterproofs in this house.  They just hang and drip.

All the fields are flooded and the horses have been inside all day. We will let them out later on this evening.  I put the old men in the indoor school so they could move about more.

Anywho, to the vet I went (while OH and Floss heroically fed those that live outwith the homestead) with BeAnne.

We saw a new vet who was very kind, helpful and concerned while BeAnne did her best poor-me urchin impression until I had to admit that Her Maj was perhaps milking it and perhaps even over-playing her misery.

Anyway, blood was taken (test liver and kidney function) and a little “sheep” bandage was put on to ebb the flow of the depression.

Once home, BeAnne had her Thundershirt put on as she was in such a state. She is not a good traveller any more.

The verdict so far is it is probably teeth.  She had a few rotten ones and possibly infected too.  On the good side, BeAnne’s heart is strong so she could stand an anaesthetic to remove the bad ones.  We will see what the blood test comes back with first.

Meanwhile, Monster has taken up residence in, what is lovingly known in this house, as The Fortress of Solitude.

His cat flu has returned and he is feeling very rough.  Sneezing and sneezing.  Poor lad.  He is very quiet.

While I was in the surgery with BeAnne, I talked to the vet about his recurrent flu and we both agreed that there was not much we could do. I am increasing Monster’s own immunity with proper home-made meals and a tube of Gim-Cat “Immun-Booster Complex” which says it “strengthens the immune system and the body’s own defence mechanism”.  He likes eating it, which helps.

My animals are very hard work these days.  Off to let out the chaps now into the flooded fields. Yay!

I took these photos yesterday in our garden to make the most of the flowers that were trying so hard.

Storm Jorge is on its way so I am not holding my breath that there will be anything left afterwards.  This might be our only glimpse of Spring.

Apparently the storm has been classed as a “Weather Bomb”, which does not bode well.

I have now looked this meteological terminlogy (or is it slang?) up and it means, apparently, two month’s worth of rain!

I could do without this.  At the storm’s worst (11.20), I will be at the Vet with BeAnne who is not herself at the moment.  Her symptoms are she is not eating with her usual enthusiasm and drinking more (my OH noticed – I hadn’t).  Something may be going on.  We went for a walk on the hill this morning to see if it would cheer her up a bit.  She bounced along happily so I just don’t know.

Anyway, I am worrying and totally overthinking this now.  Her Maj is 14 and she has to live forever.  She knows that.

Because that’s just how it feels these days.

I can’t think of anything scintillating to write today.  I’m sorry, but there it is.

I drove into town to get some hay having totally short-changed everyone by throwing food at all things equine and ovine, quickly checking they had four legs, a head and a tail and that everything was vaguely working alright.

There was no time to sit down and chat.

But everyone got their special dietary needs catered for.

Fivla is now on TurmerAid which has perked her up remarkably.  She trots over at the site of Lambie’s food bowl.

I hate days like this when it is all a rush and just a brief peck on the nose.

The Minions were particularly unimpressed with us, I think.

They love a good chat.

Something, sorry, I mean someone, they can get their teeth into!

But they have the world (ie a large field), and they are all looking superb.  Waffle is a bit too superb but there is not a lot I can do about that.

The old ladies – Vitamin and Fivla – are a nice weight and have wintered very well.  On my travels today, I bought the Minions some wormer so that is next on my to-do list.

Sorry for the utterly boring blog. It has been a day of rushing though I did manage to also buy 16 bales of hay ready for the next weather onslaught.

To “be Newted” is actually a real phrase in our language.

Newt may be tiny – even mi-nute (I haven’t measured him for ages).  He is probably around the 27″ mark.  Next time I have the measuring stick about me, I will see if he has grown recently.  Outwards definitely but probably not upwards.

Newt is a darling boy despite his lack of stature, none-the-less,

He is a much loved member of our little rescue community (actually, they all are).

He is interested in everyone.

And everything!  He loves a good glove and has been known to rush off with one in his mouth if you leave them anywhere.

I adore this expression.

His best trick is to sneak up on you from behind when you are freezing your butt off sitting on a rock to give you a kiss.

So that’s our scruffy little Newt.  A total darling of yak-ness this winter.

Every home should have one!