Little Himself, aka Albie, is doing well.
He is still fed twice a day – once in the morning (1 litre of milk and a scoop of hard feed) and then again in the afternoon (1litre of milk).
I always tip up his bowl with my foot.
It makes it easier for Albie to get the last drops.
And then there is Storm who arrives far too quickly.
Albie is not keen on sharing his milk. His little bottom whirrs round like the armed turret on the top of an army tank. He is not afraid to tell anyone what he thinks!
None shall share.
(not even little blue-eyed Tiddles).
Then there is the statutory game with the milk bottle. A necessity rather than habit.
Today, I brought Albie in as I wanted to try rugs on him. The weather is going to deteriorate and Daisy and I have been thinking that Albie may be losing weight. We settled on this rather nifty number.
It fits a treat and Albie looks very smart in it.
I took Albie back out to his field, where Storm was waiting for him. He leads very well on a headcollar – always has. Such lovely manners.
And then the Shetland ponies had to examine him thoroughly.
Very thoroughly, if he would just stay still long enough.
Funnily little ponies. Look at Tor’s body language. She doesn’t want anyone near her little foster boy.
She does care. I know she says she doesn’t but she does (secretly).