It's been a funny old week, my slave, Jenny thought it would be a good idea to take me on a "fun" ride. That was last Sunday, we have not spoken since. When I say we, I mean she. I keep getting that "look", which is accompanied with a tut.

I am at a loss to understand the problem, I had loads of fun.

The ride was organised by our local riding club, the Hot Hoofers, to raise some money for the local animal welfare. Well that's all well and good but my welfare is very much under threat thanks to that well meaning "fun" ride.

We rode there instead of boxing, Jenny thought that the ride there would loosen me up and settle me down, it is not me that needs to settle down but her, she gets in to a right proper state when there is any kind of event.

Here I am rambling on and you do not know a thing about me. Well, Jenny is my latest slave, I have had her a long time, I like her a lot and I think I shall keep her, she just needs a bit more training.

I am 15.2 h.h. (and a half). And according to the people that were my mothers slaves, I am a funny shape!!!! My neck is too short, my back is too long and I have 2 white hoofs. Sooooooo, and, what's the problem?

I am not sure what my name is, I have had a few changes of name with different slaves. Jenny calls me one or too things, but I know that on all our entry forms she puts Spuddles Prince, I get called spud for short, or spuddy if she is in a good mood or wants something.

I live in the big barn at Shady Gables high up on the moors. My friends are Thistle and Noddy, they are donkeys. Thistle came first to keep me company, but she would not settle with out another donkey, so we had to get Noddy. (cos he's got big ears, get it?) We also have Burt, he was Jenny's first pony, I am not sure why we keep him, he is an awful lot of trouble and behaves very badly when ever he can.

But my bestist friend is Creda, oh my, what a woman she is. 16.h.h. a wonderful shade of glistening brown with a raven black mane and tail. Her slave is Brenda, Brenda knows how to look after horses and Brenda is always calm what ever we are doing.

So where was I? Oh yes, the ride. Creda is always the lady, her manners are perfect. I am afraid that when I am with Creda the peacock in me comes out, I cannot help myself, it is like a red mist, it just comes over me.

On the morning of the ride I knew we were going some where, I was trust up in all the "gear", straps to stop me pulling (well thats the idea), bits to make me stop (erhum) and things for Jenny to hang on to when I get giddy.

Creda was dressed in her snaffle bridle and saddle, with knee boots and stuff to stop her getting any marks and scuffs.

At the thought of doing something exciting I got a bit giddy on the way there, Creda pretends not to notice, but I know she is watching. For some reason we stopped so that the slaves could change riders. I do not know why, but when Brenda gets on board I find I have very little option than to do as I am told, I so hate that.

By the time we got there I was, to use Brenda's words "under control". Inside I was bursting. So they changed back.

So many horses turned up, I saw so many old friends, so much news to exchange, ho for a hay net to share while we catch up on old times. But alas sadly this is not allowed. I was made to stand next to Willow. He is a shaggy individual with a very bad temper. I still have the scars to show from the last time he kicked me. But Jenny likes to flutter her eyelashes at Paul, Willows slave. Paul seems like a kindly person, he was conned when he paid money to be owned by Willow, but feels obliged to let Willow keep him in his employ.

We set off on our ride in a small group of 6, I wanted to be in front, that Willow can not possibly kick me if I am in front of him. That worked alright apart from some chestnut mare that kept running in to the back of me ever time we came back to a walk.

After one of these incidents when the back of my heel was cut by the hoof of the mare and by now a sore bottom from being used as a buffer, I gave a warning with my hind legs to tell her to back off. I will not go into what happened next. But I have now been branded a kicker, and I have to wear a red ribbon on my tail from now to warn every one that I am a thug!!!!

Rugs

Creda is not allowed to play out in the mud. The donkeys are not water proof (I keep wondering why Jenny does not spray them with that stuff she does my rug with, works a treat).

According to Brenda, these funny little animals are bred for warm dry places and can not cope with wet and cold, even with a rug, and do they have rugs? Yes indeedy they have rugs. Oh my do they have rugs. Thistle even had a hat to match one of her rugs, but Noddy ate it. They have rugs to keep them warm, to keep them dry, to stop them over heating to dry them off, and even one to keep the flies off.

Every time Jenny puts on Noddy's night rugs, she says "ooooooo, doesent he look sweet". No Jenny he looks a burke. The rug hangs 3 inches off the floor and comes high up his neck, he looks like an Hover craft with ears.

I have a rug for out doors in the winter, it's got lots of patches on it, in fact come to think about it, I think it is all patches now, all the original rug seems to be covered. I would just like to point out to all of you that were thinking "Oh, one of those horses eh?" Well, no I am not, it's Burt, he swings from it and nibbles the hem, he says he finds it comforting. He says he feels insecure, he as good reason to, but more of that another day.

Burt is in a lot during the summer due to having laminitis. And I, according to rumour, am I muck tub in my box, and so I am put out every day whatever the weather. I can not be put out on my own, I get lonely, so I have Burt in the winter and the other 3 take it in turns during the summer.

Today it rained, all day, the wind was blowing a bitter cutting wind. I have a shelter and the slave always gives me a nice big net tied up high so that Burt can't get at it, he gets all the stuff I drop.

We got a turnip today for a treat, we played football with it first, then gave it a wash in the water bucket, I made Burt get it back out. He had to put his head all the way to the bottom and the water came up to his eyes. He was coughing and spluttering and mentioned something about nearly drowning, but I could not hear exactly what he was saying because I was crunching on turnip, and it's noisy stuff.

Gus, the stable cat joined us mid morning as per normal. He used to live independently, he roamed where ever he liked, he does not know where though. One day he went out for a walk looking for a girl friend, he saw some nice food, and went to eat it. The next news he is in a cage in a van. The next thing he remembers is waking up from a very deep sleep, a little sore in his lower regions, feeling like he had been on a pub crawl, and he was in the same cage. He spent the next couple of days trying to hide under the newspaper they put in the bottom of his cage.

Some how he ended up here at Shady Gables. Jenny tried him in the house but he recked it. Making little maps of china every where and beating up the house cats. He now lives in the big barn with us, he has his own little house, it's very nice, but he likes to sleep on my back. In the winter he gets under my rug. I do not mind at all, it is just when he slips and he puts his claws in to stop from falling, oh the pain.

He would rather sleep on Thistles back, her back is wide, flat and a slight dip. But she shares a house with Noddy, and he's got a reputation for eating everything. Gus is not prepared to take the risk. We often wonder if she dare sleep with both eyes closed in case Noddy gets hunger pangs during the night.

FOR SALE

We have been kept in, our beds have been bottomed, hay nets are full, we have been groomed and I am wearing my best rug.

Jenny has swept the floor so well I could eat my carrots off it.

A short while later both Brenda and Jenny return, they are dressed in riding gear, but only one set of tack, mine, and it's been cleaned. A voice from out side the barn shouts "Hello, Hello, anyone there?" Thistle answers him and tells him to come in.

Jenny says "Hi there Mr Newby, do come in".

Mr N replies "Hello Jenny, am I late?"

"No" says Jenny "Not at all, your timings perfect".

"So this is Spud?" says Mr N.

Spud: "Yep"

Jenny nods.

Mr N: "He looks up to the weight" says Mr N".

Spud: What weight?

Jenny says "Oh yes, he will carry you no problem".

Spud: Why should I want to carry that lump of lard?

Jenny then says "Lets get him out then you can try him. Brenda will ride him first so that you can see him move".

Spud: Hang on a mo, what's going on here?

Mr N: "Good idea, I will just go to the car and get my things".

Brenda says to Jenny "I hope he behaves".

Jenny replies "Me too. Oh spud, do be a good boy, I am sure that Mr N will give you a good home".

Spud: "New home, what new home? I do not want a new home , I like this one. I don't feel well" , cough, cough, cough.

Mr N returns from his car and says "Ahhh, I see you have him ready".

Spud: Cough, cough, cough.

Mr N says "That sounds nasty".

To which Jenny replies "He's never had a cough before, wonder if it's the hay"? Spud coughs again.

Mr N says "Lets get him outside and see how he is then".

Spud: coughing as he goes.Cough, cough. He hangs his head as near to ground as short neck will allow>.

Mr N looks at Jenny and says "I am very disappointed that you have had me travel all this way to see a sick horse".

Jenny replies "But he was fine this morning honest he was, he was well. I am sorry, I just do not know what to say".

Mr N says in an angry tone "Could I suggest that you get a vet to look at this poor horse".

With that he gave them both a scathing look and flounced off to his car. We stood and watched him drive off.

Thistle broke the silence by calling out "What's going on?". "Nothing" replied I, every thing is alright now, and I turned to march back to my house with a spring in my step. I realised the error of my ways when the shout of "SPUD" reached my ears. I just caught sight of Jenny running back to the house crying "I can't take any more of that damned horse".

Once the slaves had gone, we had a meeting. We came to the conclusion that the slave is unwell and needs therapy. Her life would be nothing without me. She would be lost, she needs me, she just does not realise it. A good gallop over the moors and extra carrots in her diet would bring her round. Burt thinks she might be getting too much protein, he remembers it sent him loopy. He might have a point there. More fibre dear, thats what you need.

RATS

Carrots, we need carrots. The slave just popped her head round the door and asked Brenda if there was anything needed form the shops. Why doesn't she ask the ones in the know? You can never have enough carrots, Gus does not agree, he's got very strange eating habits.

Gus is part of the work force, his job is to keep the mice and rats down. He could get rid of them all, but if he did that then he might get the sack, and he kinda likes it here. So he just makes sure that there is one or two about.

One night I was dozing in my house, all warm in my nice night rug, with full and contented tummy, listening to the howling wind outside and dreaming of unlimited carrots being shared by Creda and myself in some lush clover pasture on low land where the sneaky wind does not blow.

My dreaming was brought to a sudden halt by a strange nose, with eyes now wide open and ears twitching to get my bearings, I realised that the sound was coming from just outside my door. It was the sound of crunching. My heart leapt, Oh no, please let me be wrong, don't let it be Noddy having a midnight feast of Thistle. I stared across at their house, Noddy was stood with his bottom wedge into the corner, and his eyes closed tight, ears relaxed but twitching, which showed he was alive and also hearing the sound.

The noise continued, I looked down and, oh dear, dear me. I was torn between running away shouting how could you?, and looking intently and thinking, how could you?.

I don't like the sight of blood, especially if it's mine, but, well you know how it is, a morbid curiosity comes over you. In the half light from the moon, I could just, if I looked really hard, see the tail of something disappearing down Gus's mouth. I stared at him in half disbelief and half amazement. He stretched himself out to his full length, looked up at me and said 'yes' . What did you just eat? A mouse he replied in a casual tone. I was still staring at him, my mind racing one minute and unable to comprehend what I had seen the next. I had so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I needed to know, but all I could come up with was, 'why?' That's what cats do, eat mice, well not all cats, but I like a mouse now and again, only the fat ones mind you, tasty. He licked his lips and you could see him enjoying the after taste.

I moved back to my net, and I thought about what had just happened, I came to the conclusion that I liked my food still, in one place, I had no desire for moving food, but I do like crunchy food like carrots.

Mice came into the conversation a few times after that. I wanted to know more, but the girls will have none of it and will do anything to change the subject. Creda comes over all of a doo daa where mice are concerned. We don't talk about rats, we don't have rats according to the slave. The mention of a rat sends Creda into a faint.

Gus says we have had visiting rats, but he's seen them off, he doesent like rats and says he would never eat one, he remembers his mother telling him rats do not eat nice things and if you eat them you can end up with a poorly tummy.

So the slave is off into town, she's told Brenda that she is getting supplies in because the forecast is for snow. Bread, milk, newspaper, chocolate, mints (yummy) and cat food, no mention of carrots, what if we run out, then what?

I have heard about a horse welfare organisation for neglected horses, I need their contact details.