Not a Good Day
I nearly came off Connie this morning.
The dentist kept me waiting forty minutes. . . .
. . . And charged me twenty five hundred pounds for the privilege.
And when my jaw and I tottered out for the final hellhound walk around town, we were set on by a lab mix and a corgi, and Darkness ducked out of his harness and bolted. Which was very sensible of him really, as I was busy fending the lab mix off Chaos and the corgi, thanks to its minimal leggage, had arrived at the affray a bit late and gone for Darkness as more available.
Who says people who stay home all the time don’t have adventures?
I’m going to go through the day’s events backwards which is their order of troublingness.
Have I mentioned how much I hate other people’s off lead, out of control, vicious bullying bloody dogs??? In this case the twit who was evidently responsible for the brutes sat on her bicycle and, after they’d already attacked my dogs–they’d shot from clear the other side of the rec ground, right past her, she could hardly have failed to see what was coming–said vaguely, Here, Fudge, here Something-or-other [I missed the corgi's name somehow]. I, rather mysteriously, didn’t panic–that would have come later–but that’s partly because I couldn’t defend two dogs from two dogs and Darkness getting loose did even the odds. I have this strange dislike of watching my hellhounds being bitten. And Darkness did not, fortunately, light out for Cornwall; he just ran away from the damned corgi, who really did rush up snapping and snarling and launched himself on Darkness. With the twit sitting on her bicycle watching. Words are not precisely failing me, but words suitable for an all-ages blog sure are.
The lab cross was rather elderly from the look of it*, and the corgi admirably unfit, so they both gave up pretty quickly. Fortunately. [insert exclamatory utterance] This left me with one outraged, leashed hellhound and one bemused, unleashed one, presenting himself in a series of breathtaking heraldic poses which I was very sorry there wasn’t someone with a camera there to immortalise, especially because someone there could have hunted the corgi down and killed it while I recaptured my hellhound. This was, just by the way, all happening at the edge of a busy street–and in the bloody street: everybody but Chaos and I (and the twit on the bicycle) were in the street for quite a lot of it. It’s sheer luck there weren’t any cars passing at the time: it was slightly after the getting-home-from-work rush, but as I say, this is a busy street. The second time I called him, Darkness came, quietly, and I admit I grabbed him (while telling him what a goooood boy he is, to the extent that Chaos had to wedge himself between us, which is what Chaos always does) just in case the corgi got its second wind and came after us again. I then had the interesting experience of trying to keep hold of him while unfastening his harness–it’s one of the kind that comes to pieces before you can put it on–and wrapping it back round him again. (Plus a wiggly, demanding armful of Chaos. Yes, I could have made him sit and behave, but we were all feeling a trifle traumatised.) And yes, his harness is loose–both of their harnesses are loose–it’s loose because if it’s tight, it gives him blisters. They have thin skin and not a great deal of fur, especially places like behind the elbows, where the harness runs, and the standard sighthound anatomy is not best suited for harnessing anyway.
I came home even totterier than I went out. I feel that Darkness has come round to stare at me a few more times than usual this evening, but he does come round and stare, so I may be imagining it.
I also hate my arrogant male genital of a dentist, which will also come as no surprise to long-time readers of this blog. He is such a . . . male genital. I’m there for a two and a half hour session with him and his drills, and we start off with him being forty minutes late. No warning. No explanation. Minimal, which is to say no, apology. After twenty minutes I said something to the receptionist who said, oh, he’ll be here in a minute. After half an hour I said something again, and she started to go upstairs and then stopped and said, oh, I’ll write to him. Does this suggest anything to you as it does to me about the way he treats his staff? So she sat down at her computer and sent him a message. Then she says to me, he’ll be right here. And then she left. Cute.
And when he finally showed up in the full flower of his smarmy arrogance and I said grimly, forty minutes, this is really not good, he got all shirty. He’s always right, you know. We’ve been here before. He’s apparently the best specialist I’m going to get short of trekking up to London again, which I can’t face anyway, and several-times-over so now with food-allergic hellhounds, but I’m damned if I’m going to put up QUIETLY with this jerk‘s overweening conviction that the sun shines out his rear end and nobody’s life or schedule matters but his own. Specialist doctors are exactly the same. We should be weeping with gratitude that they are deigning to address our piffling little concerns. We should hell. I’m weeping, all right, but I’m weeping at the size of the cheque I had to write to escape out the front door again. And I get to go back in a month and have the work finished. Only this particular job, mind you. I have a lot more mouth to bleed copiously at the wallet from. ARRRRRSODDINGRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH.
So. I can end with Connie whom I only almost came off of, and other than that it was a good lesson and a good time, which time with a nice horse always is, and how have I been living these last few years without one or some or something? I’ve been remaking the acquaintance of Jenny’s old retired jumper star, let’s call him Drambuie**, he’s rather that colour, who is a sweetie on the ground–I was official horse-holder at a few shows, years ago, when I was at Jenny’s yard the first time–but rather a handful on top of. From front on you’d know him at once as thoroughbred, he has the TB head and neck, or anyway you’d know that he had TB ancestors that had given him that face. From behind you’d think he had something heavier in him: the boy has bone. But he sticks his nose out and says hello, and he’s right beside the tack room, so saying hello to Drambuie is part of the Connie-riding experience. It’s just so nice to be around horses again. I’ve been saying for as many years as I’ve been without, that I miss horses, not so much the riding. The riding is good, but the horses are what is necessary. But it’s frequently not that easy, as any of you who long for horses and live in a city, or have no money, or no time, or tiny children and no one to hand them over to for a couple of afternoons a week, or whose only commutable-to barns are run by evil creeps who think horses are a kind of four legged car*** know. I really don’t mean to sound like I’m gloating–I really do not feel that I’m gloating. I’m just so amazed. And happy.†
It was SHEETING again this morning.†† So we had to use the indoor school. Jenny’d had the sprinklers on to lay the dust and sprinklers are erratic little beasts so there were inevitably a few slithery spots. The lesson went fine, allowances made for the fact that Connie does what you tell her and I don’t always tell her right–the best flying change we had was not one I’d asked for–and gods’ blood but all that lateral work requires all your feet and fingers and seatbones and ears and elbows and napes of necks and things to be doing something unique each unto themselves and all of them simultaneously and then Jenny says things like ‘think in terms of a few steps of shoulder-in for the transition from canter to trot’: this because Connie has a habit of doing a bit of a superfluous bounce there. YES. AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK I WILL HANG OFF THE SIDE OF THE SADDLE AT THE GALLOP, AND PICK UP ROPES LYING ON THE [note: watered, and dust-free] GROUND IN MY TEETH.
For our last manoeuvre we were doing a series of three twenty-metre circle loops as we cantered down the long side of the school. The ceiling of the school is way overhead–high enough to jump quite big fences under with feet to spare for claustrophobics–but the door is only slightly over person-on-horseback head height. So there’s a big gap between the top of it and the roof. Birds, especially pigeons, like to perch there. And Connie is, after all, half thoroughbred, and, as Jenny says, does want to remind us occasionally she’s not braindead. So as Connie and I came out of our last loop and cantered past the door, some idiot pigeon burst out at us. I was myself startled, and Connie did a tremendous shy and slipped on a wet spot. I came out of the saddle in several different directions simultaneously while Connie was trying to drag her feet back under her again. She succeeded. I didn’t fall off. I might very well have: it was more a case of the horse being under me when I came down again. One of Connie’s many virtues is that she wouldn’t dream of trying to get you off, of using something like a shy and a slip to drop the old shoulder and finish the job: I’ve only known her a few weeks and I already know this. ††† Anyway, having found our way back to our normal relations of course we had to do that canter circle a few more times. The first time around I was shamelessly holding onto her mane, and she did shy again, but only half-heartedly, and then we went round a couple more times and were actually getting it together as well or better as we’d done all lesson so it was pretty much worth it although not necessarily on the terms provided.
Meanwhile the news of Jenny’s new Project is that he’d stood around in his field thinking to some purpose all day yesterday because this morning he’d come out and dropped his nose and rounded his neck out rather than inside-out and let her take a little feel on the bit, let her steady him a little. She even cantered him–but she’s a brave woman. I’d've expected him to fall down going around one of the short ends, and no pigeon needed.
* * *
* Pity it still had so many of its teeth.
** Word hasn’t heard of Drambuie. It offers as alternatives: Drawbore, Dreamboat, Drumbeat and Dayboy. All with init cap, please note, although this appears in the middle of a sentence. Drawbore? I thought Dayboy was quite weird enough, although Word’s dictionary claims that it is a boarding school kid who goes home at night, which in my life would be called a day boy. But drawbore? Word’s dictionary doesn’t even have it. So called ‘research options’ still draw a blank. However: http://www.woodworkingtips.com/etips/etip09.html
There are just basic definitions in some of the free dictionaries, but in the first place the ads make my head hurt (more) and in the second place this is more fun.
*** Or a lot of other things that horses aren’t. Let’s not go there. The things that people do to horses in the name of this or that are beyond appalling.
† Because I didn’t come off. . . .
†† I’m going to put the link to those Camelot lyrics in ‘about’ on this blog. Maybe I’ll learn to sing it. Well, I can’t sing much worse than Richard Burton.
††† I said as much to Jenny and she was horrified–well, Jenny doesn’t do horror, but you know what I mean–at the mere thought. Connie is a very, very, very nice horse. I should stop with the raving about her: when I finally manage to post some photos she’s going to come as rather a shock. She has a nice face and four nice straight legs, but she’s very short-coupled and has rather a grass belly on her, and she’s just going to look like a horse to you, not the saintly equine embodiment of an over-imaginative middle-aged woman’s prayer. All of her virtues are the quiet, amenable kind, which dazzle only more or less invisibly in the riding, and none of them are going to photograph; she’s got none of the charismatic flash of someone like Drambuie.
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GOOD Darkness.
BAD dentist. Ass.
I firmly believe that everyone who goes into the health service industry should have to take a short quiz called “Are You a D**khead?” and if they score over 20, they lose their right to practice permanently. Also they forfeit their driver’s license, their internet access, and they’re not allowed to visit my museum…
Literal LOL! YESSSSSS! And all the dogs that want to attack mine are mysteriously teleported at the last moment and as their jaws close they CLOSE AROUND VARIOUS BITS OF DENTIST.
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The above two comments:
Now that’s what I call vengeance. Anya couldn’t have done it better.
Darkness is probably checking on his Very Special Robin, to make sure you’re okay. Good dog, Darkness, and you’re a good dog too, Chaos.
[Hugs, healing vibes, and the very best chocolate, heading your way]
It takes a special kind of person to step forward for a job where all of your clients , without exception, sincerely want to be somewhere else. Also (I knew several dentists-to-be at university), one of the first things they do is train them in Proper Medical Arrogance, because it is important that the patient believe that one knows exactly what one is doing. Unfortunate side effect that they then consider themselves demi-gods.
All the bearable dentists I know are women. They are quite competent, too, and tend to consider the comfort and convenience of the patient quite a bit (even coming in specially to replace a crown which fell off on Saturday morning, due to an adhesive jelly-bean, when I was flying to London on the Saturday evening AND had a ridiong lesson that afternoon.) Nice, nice angel-dentist.
LOL!!! I’m seriously considering forking over the big bucks and seeing a private practice endodontist and whatever-you-call-someone-who-restores-broken-teeth. I have held off going back to the School of Dentistry because no-one there, from the instructors to the students to the receptionists to the @%$! cleaning staff is very long on compassion. Even if I don’t find compassionate – or at least not unpleasant – dentists, hopefully they won’t be on summer break like the …. snork! I just realized what the aforementioned organization’s acronym would be! How fitting! :)
If it weren’t for my original dentist–she who sent me on to these b*st*rds, which is the first time she’s ever NOT been nice to me–I’d think there was a personality test as part of the dental school interview process, and you only pass if you’re a ratbag.
Perhaps a photo of you in a state of rapture with Connie will show how truly wonderful she is, as it seems it is the relationship which is the source of much of your delight.
I often think the “best ” pictures of pets include their persons, because we can read the people, and that helps us understand who the animal is.
Sorry your day was so maddeningly awful … may tomorrow be blest with sunshine, a world safe for hellhounds, and a breather from life’s perversity.
Here’s a thought which might cheer you up … no matter how bad a day is, it gets us one day closer to George W. Bush leaving office.
no matter how bad a day is, it gets us one day closer to George W. Bush leaving office.
***** OH, NOW you’re talking!!!!!!
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AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*sends hugs and chocolate…sorbetshakes? (would that work?) and treats for the brave hellhounds and Connie*
Oh Robin, what an AWFUL day. Many, many hugs.
Just to be sure, the hellhounds were NOT bitten, right? And you? Traumatized but not bleeding? I swear, I don’t understand how people can leave their dogs off lead when they do this sort of thing. But people often surprise me with how much they suck. (Stupid optimism.)
I think I’d prefer all my teeth falling out to your (grumble grumble mutter mutter) dentist. Where’s Mr Edge when you need him?
And Connie! (Who will be gloriously beautiful no matter what you say.) I’m so glad she was able to get back to her feet and be under you when you fell. *sigh*
*more hugs*
Oooh, sorbetshakes, I like it! :)
Generally speaking ordinary stupid off lead dogs that bite don’t seem to bite very *hard*, and they tend to go for the throat anyway, where there’s the extra fur for protection. Even thin haired hellhounds have a bit more fur around the ruff. I’m terrified of running into a mean dog that ***really*** means it, but it hasn’t happened yet. They’ve certainly been bitten enough to break *human* skin but I haven’t found anything yet . . . shiver . . .
Well, I don’t actually WANT all my teeth falling out, I like CHEWING. . . .
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Oooh, nice twist. I like it!
And hey, at least you stayed on the horse. :)
Yes, well she didn’t twist! :) She just lurched around a little at speed! While I flew through the air above her for a little while!
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Better than I’d do. Think of the stories about the penguins, electric eels, et al…. then picture that same deft quickness and fluidity of motion you imagine I possess, and apply it to the mental image of me riding an effing huge horse. It would be pure comedy gold.
Yes! Yes! We want riding lessons! We want stories of RIDING LESSONS!
Ho ho ho…. no. :)
You’re going to have to write that one yourself, McKinley. :) While I’ve got no objections to getting on a horse now and then (it’s only been 25 years or so since the last time) paying for the privilege of repeatedly falling on my head seems a little over the top.
Though I do pay to go curling, come to think of it…
Well, I hope the horses have cleats on their shoes!!!! (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!)
That sucks that he’s the only specialist in your area, short of going to London. I’d switch dentists, if there was any conceivable way of doing so.
Yep. So would I.
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*** The dentist kept me waiting forty minutes. . . .
. . . And charged me twenty five hundred pounds for the privilege. ***
Good grief!!!
*picks jaw up from the floor*
I’m actually lost for words that they are allowed to charge that amount.
*shakes head bewilderedly*
(unless the £2500 is not the actual amount and is just a way of saying it was a lot of money, in which case, I’ll be the one in the corner looking sheepish for taking things literally…)
But whatever, your dentist really sounds like he needs a good kick, or possibly to be tied down in his chair while a mad american woman tests his drills on him?? ;-)
*offers to help*
No, the £2500 is the real deal. It *does* include the next (one hour) appt. to finish the job . . . but ***even so.***
After I’ve got him tied down, I’m *going to raid the till first.*
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***After I’ve got him tied down, I’m *going to raid the till first.* ***
All I can say is that for that money he better be doing a damned good job, and also he should probably spend some of his ill gotten gains on an intensive course at charm school (or possibly just on learning basic politeness and manners!!!)
And if you want an accomplice for a spot of dentist torturing, I’m your girl ;-)
(somewhere we have one of those industrial strength garden strimmers, I’m sure I could damage a dentist with that…..)
*tucks horns and forked tail back out of sight and adjusts stolen halo to try and look innocent…*
I’m not sure a strimmer will cut through the ***brass.*** But it’s worth a try. :)
Hmmm, I wonder if they have a chainsaw I could borrow at work…..
*strokes imaginary beard*
Let me know . . .
Good on you staying on Connie when she shied. My mare Lily (half TB, half Paint) spooks in place, mostly, usually by growing much taller, but occasionally by levitating. This is startling, but much easier to stick than my idiot Thoroughbred Hap, who used to simultaneously pivot, drop his shoulder, and bolt. I learned to stay with him through most of his spooks after a few years, but I was happy when he finally matured out of the worst of it at the age of 14 or so. (Clicker training helped as well.)
(I remember I was clucking once over a classified ad specifying an advanced rider only for a horse for sale. A friend who was reading the same ads said I would have to advertise Hap the same way. “But I don’t consider myself an advanced rider,” I whined softly.)
Thoroughbreds are wonderful animals, but it is hard to expect brains from a critter that has been bred for two centuries to do nothing but run very fast.
I *hate* that end-swapping thing. And I just don’t want to bother with a shoulder-dropper.
I don’t agree about TBs! It varies, like with most things/critters! Some of them are very bright–brighter than is **helpful** from the human perspective sometimes too! :)
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Gyaaaaaaah at the dentist. I am facing a root canal next month and, when I went in for my consult, was ever so happy to find my recommended specialist singing the Macarena as he walked through the office and laughing with me when I had to grin at him. I don’t yet know what his dentistry skills are like, but so far I’m hopeful. And since I’d gotten there early for paperwork, I got in and out before my appointment was even due to start. Unheard of.
But wow on your specialist. Sheesh. And grrrrr at twits who don’t keep tabs on their dogs. IDIOT. I mean, even putting aside the attacking other dogs bit, which should be blindingly obvious, letting them run loose on a busy street? Aiii.
The root canal specialist guy at this clinic is pretty okay. I want to say maybe it’s something about root canals . . . but root canals are HORRIBLE. And way too often they HURT. Anyway, good luck!!!
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Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry. It sounds like you had a downright CRUMMY day and now I want to make you cookies (What kind?). Alas, as I can’t get them to you (boo hoo!), I’ll just send you some VERY GOOD virtual chocolate. And more good vibrations.
YES. AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK I WILL HANG OFF THE SIDE OF THE SADDLE AT THE GALLOP, AND PICK UP ROPES LYING ON THE [note: watered, and dust-free] GROUND IN MY TEETH.
That made me laugh. :)
I am glad you didn’t fall off and break your neck–that would have been BAD. Connie sounds like a very saintly horse. Perhaps you ought to photoshop a gentle glow around her and then post pictures.
LOL! First I need Photoshop . . . and then I need to learn to USE it.
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I think maybe I’m feeling too weak tonight . . . :)
Oh, heavens to Murgatroyd! You’ve had a terrible, horrible,no-good, very bad day! Unfortunately, I can believe totally that twit just sat there and let her dogs attack your wonderful hellhounds. I’ve got neighbors that let their dogs roam all over the neighborhood, and I’ve even had to chase them off my front porch! This is why my three cats aren’t ever allowed out of the house. Urrgghh.
But, oh my, you truly suffered today. Lighting candles right now! There! Prayers have gone up as well.
I rode a horse exactly once in my life, in high school, at a stable run by Fort Shafter on Oahu. They gave me a horse to ride that only wanted to stop and eat the grasses on the side of the trail, they gave none of us any instruction really on how to ride properly. It wasn’t fun, it was one of the longest hours I have ever spent. Your descriptions of riding Connie make me want to try again.
You absolutely have to be TAUGHT. And taught WELL. And have a decent horse who’s willing to get into the mood of the thing. All of this takes some finding and some doing. It is, however, glorious when it happens.
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. . . and where does ‘heavens to Murgatroyd’ come from? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone else say it so since I couldn’t remember where I got it I stopped.. . .
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*. . . and where does ‘heavens to Murgatroyd’ come from? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone else say it so since I couldn’t remember where I got it I stopped.. . .*
It’s certainly something I remember hearing used by parents/grandparents when I was a kid, and googling got me this page…. http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/heavens-to-murgatroyd.html
Yes. Hurrah. I’ve now bookmarked this useful site. Thank you! :)
I don’t know, but it rings a bell … I feel as if I used the expression last in the 60s. I suspect a ’50s TV show.
This is a job for “super reference librarian” … so it’s into the janitor’s closet … off with the glasses, hair out of the bun … and I’ll let you if I find anything.
Here’s your answer … not sure how to make the link work
http://www.toonopedia.com/snaggle.htm
Golly. Takes me back . . . wait, wait, I don’t WANT to go back . . . :)
One of my favorite cartoon characters when I was a little kid (back around 1959 or so) was Snagglepuss, and that was his catch phrase. Cartoons featuring Snagglepuss appeared on the Quick Draw McGraw show and on Yogi Bear. Just another sign of my misspent youth! When older son was born (25 years ago!), someone gave him a balloon with Snagglepuss on it – I was so happy, and people couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me!
Yes, I’ll have got it from Yogi Bear, to which/whom I was addicted. Thank you, problem solved! :)
I’m sure you googled the “heavens to Murgatroyd” thing in the meantime. Just in case you didn’t: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/heavens-to-murgatroyd.html
Ever considered head halties for the hellhounds? Easier to put on, easier to control and probably kinder due to the fur/skin issues you mentioned before. Also less likely to pull you off your feet when they gallop.
Menopause Memory has me in its toils here. There is a reason I rejected halties but I can’t remember why now . . . maybe I should look again . . . No, wait. Are these the things that *bend* the dog’s neck? Certainly one of those headstall things does. And I wouldn’t risk it on a sprinting hellhound. I’d rather have sore shoulders than a dog with a broken neck.
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The early ones did. The one we have (admitting its for a hyperactive wire foxy) leads. He slips out of everything else with depressing regularity. I also noticed you had retractable leads….how do you find em? The only time I used it I HATED it…didnt feel like I had control at all.
I love my retracting leads. Don’t know how I managed to *have* dogs before they were invented. :)
Just a note on halties (head halters) After going to many seminars for dog trainers I found I liked the TTouch ground work method for halties best.
You used a double ended leash. One end on the haltie, the other on the harness or collar. The harness end is used to stop the dog and the haltie end to guide the head. This prevents neck injuries.
Generally two hands are needed with this method, sometimes in the beginning you need two people, one on harness one on haltie, so working it with two active dogs is very difficult.
I’ve known other trainers and dog people who swear that one leash is possible. I guess for them it is. Personally I would never go without two leads on the dog.
R.W.
Which is totally useless for us. Also it sounds like you’re talking about reschooling a problem dog. I haven’t got problem dogs (well, not about this). I have young enthusiastic dogs who occasionally tear my shoulders out of their sockets. Since I haven’t got a good place to let them run regularly, I’m just not going to be too strict about their rioting on long leads.
Halties or Gentle Leaders are essentially halters for your dog. The idea is that you can control their movements on leash by controlling where their heads go. They do slew the head around on the neck and can definitely cause neck problems if the head is jerked to the side. They would be dangerous for the hellhounds. I don’t much like them for a lot of reasons, but in fairness, they’re meant to give people more control in a training situation or when walking with a dog on a short lead (as in heel position).
Yes, I had a memory trace that these would be unsuitable for our situation, with them on long leads in harnesses. They are in fairness **pretty good** about remembering where the ends of their leads are . . . but they do make mistakes, and their mistakes are nearly always the cannonball variety. I haven’t GOT a problem on short leads. They walk very well on loose short leads.
I will look upon her with wonder and trembling, because I am thirty-seven years old and desire nothing on this earth more than a dead-broke bay mare with light sides and a joyous canter.
Well, she’s grey, will you still like her? :) (both Jenny’s projects are bay–Horse for Sale who just went, and New Project who’s just arrived.) She certainly has the easy willingness and the canter. But do remember that NO horse is REALLY dead broke. . . .
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Darkness bolting trumped the deadly dentist for sheer horror when I read this entry–been there, done that, got a few white hairs in the process–so good for Darkness for not disappearing and GOOD FOR YOU for latching on to him and getting him reattached in the midst of all that. :: Cradles head in hands and uses Language :: Maybe you should try bringing your riding crop out on your walks (alas, not for use on the twits) in case of dog attacks.
Your dentist must have a seriously high a**h*** quotient. You should think about putting him in a book and giving him his comeuppance on the page, unless of course he’s the sort who would be flattered if he noticed.
****she’s very short-coupled****
Is this an issue in general (e.g., because of gaiting problems) or just a hint that she isn’t proportioned like a Thoroughbred? Danes , for instance, are supposed to be square and therefore short-coupled (bitches permitted a little more length), but this can result in gaiting problems like crabbing unless the dog is really well-balanced.
I’m glad you got to finish the day with champagne (slides right down, YES). May Wednesday be better.
Well, it makes her look unbalanced! She actually has very nice strong gaits, once she’s woken up and moving. Maybe someone more knowledgeable about horse anatomy can say. I wonder if the fact that there’s less *room* in there might have anything to do with her (very alarming) tendency to colic (or even the fact that she isn’t quite a top-class jumper although if sheer trying would do it she would be). Jenny won’t breed her, much as she’d like to, because of it.
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Maybe it would relate to the jumping; that did occur to me. Dogs with longer loins are more flexible for jumping and turning, and of course they have more room underneath for their legs. “Tendency to colic”–very scary and maybe anatomy-related. Danes and Wolfhounds and Irish Setters are poster children for bloat and torsion because of their deep chests and long digestive tracts. (Although one knows exactly *why,* in spite of piles of money spent on bloat research.)
Yes. And it produces advice like all other advice–IT VARIES. I *do* believe that smaller more frequent meals are better for the sighthound figure despite people reminding you that dogs evolved to eat hugely after a kill and then sleep it off for x days . . . and I’ll be delighted if I can officially stop the digestive enzymes on the hellhounds because to the extent that Chaos is willing to eat, he’s a nosher, and just leaving something down for him to have a mouthful of occasionally raises the overall calorie intake. Which you can’t do on an enzyme regime.
A short, strong coupling is quite a desirable thing in a horse – it makes them better able to carry a rider. Many riders are wary of horses with short backs (worst possibl combination: short back and long coupling) because they’re deemed to be inflexible, but TBs have an extra dose of rubber and will swing and bend very nicely.
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Well as ever it also depends on who you talk to. Whatever! :)
Booh sucks to the pigeon, the dentist and the dog owner. I mean, I can understand a mortified dog owner trying to call back a dog who hasn’t attacked anything before, but I can’t understand them just standing by.
Have some roses to brighten your mood. http://www.flickr.com/photos/valendon/2640423494
Oooh. :) Now, please tell me why you feel obliged to misspell the cardinal. My rose books call him/her de Richelieu in a far more comfortingly spelt way.
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Pocock’s insist on spelling him that way in all of their material, so I roll my eyes and go with it.
What would I need to know about raising roses from seeds? Can it be done? Do they want special treatment? I have lots of pollinators, so I’m hoping I might get a few to set…
YOu certainly can try, but they damp off like crazy and you are VERY UNLIKELY to end up with a rose really worth keeping. Having said that, I used to get a lot of compliments (and queries) about a yellow one I bred back at the old house. But it was illegal–I’d used a rose with whatsit rights on it–so I just smiled vaguely a lot. I raised TRAYS of the things over several years and ended up with about three that so much as lived and only the one that thrived.
“So as Connie and I came out of our last loop and cantered past the door, some idiot pigeon burst out at us.”
That pigeon has probably got corgi in its ancestry, somewhere…:) Could one train attack pigeons to go for d***head dentists, I wonder?
That sounds like a mostly awful day and I suspect your adrenalin level was going up and down like a yo-yo! I hope some of Connie’s calmness stayed with you for a while, to mitigate the other stuff in remembrance.
And by way of a distraction – http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/norfolk/7496923.stm . I have to say that my sympathies are with the little bat. I hope it got back to the, er, bosom of its own family…
Oh, *snork*! Well, I guess those of us who are NOT FF don’t have to worry. . . .
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“Well, I guess those of us who are NOT FF don’t have to worry. . . .”
A couple of years’ ago a friend of Ray’s, a wildlife worker/lecturer, drove 30 miles with a young slow-worm in her bra (deliverately placed there, I may add, as it needed to be kept quiet, warm and still for the journey). All was well until the last couple of miles when it apparently revived to became rather frisky and decided to start chewing on the nearest substance to hand…and it didn’t choose her bra (which by the way was around a 34C, I should think, for this lass). Wildlife workers are all crazy, to a man or woman, in my experience.
I realise I’m a nasty old cynic, but this sounds like at least half an urban/countryside myth to me. Slowworms eat SLUGS. Of course I haven’t met Ray’s friend. . . .
“but this sounds like at least half an urban/countryside myth to me.”
No, quite true, cross my heart and hope to die. The slow-worm wasn’t trying to eat her, just registering a bit of displeasure. Mostly they don’t bite – I’ve handled several with no ill consequences – but occaionally they feel too put-upon and will chew on something in protest. They are such pretty creatures, just like living pewter.
Myths don’t need to be ‘developed’ around wildlife workers, in my experience, they’re too busy living the insanity…:)
LOL! Just like writers, then.
Well, I’m sorry that slowworms have an irritable side, I’ve always thought of them as peaceful and put-upon. (They’re not snakes! They’re SLOWWORMS!!)
” . . And charged me twenty five hundred pounds for the privilege”
That’s 2500 £, for just the one session, i.e. for 2.5 hours, right.
That’s plain crazy.
Why oh why did I not become a dentist? I’m sure I could have tortured people as well as the next person.
Is that amount of money actually legal. I would have thought this falls under the concept of extortion or usury. After all, that’s translates to 1000 £ per hour.
I’m off to talk to my boss, I feel seriously underpaid ;-)
All of these thoughts passed through MY head also, yes. Now, was he also charging me for the EXTRA FORTY MINUTES HE KEPT ME WAITING? And the £2500, as I understand, INCLUDES the final whatever when I go back in in a month. For another hour. Somehow I don’t feel really *very* comforted.
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Gosh I would sure like to roar in here with some scintillating sympathy, and make an instant name for myself on the blog of my most worshipped author. Naturally, words fail me (mostly). But just know that your magnificent rage against D**ks in the Dental Profession is RESOUNDINGLY SHARED; Drambuie is the best animal-name *ever*; and I have my genius brother working round the clock on the attacking-dog-teeth-to-dentist-bits teleportation device. (He owes me.)
Cheers.
Ooooh. Well, if your genius brother comes up with the goods you both will DEFINITELY go in my Hall of Fame. :)
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[slaps dentist with a dead fish]
[slaps bad dog owner with dead fish]
In those dramatic situations it is always frustrating that one only has two hands. At least 4 are needed. Plus the Voice of Death.
I’ll admit that Belle becomes dog aggressive when on a lead. I think it is the by-product of being bullied by other dogs. And I don’t get her off the farm enough to practice being a friendly dog…. dang :(
YAY Connie! :)
The Dead Fish Procedure! YESSSSSSS!
Well if she’s ON a lead at least you can STOP her.
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>Well if she’s ON a lead at least you can STOP her.
Yes. But why does she feel that the alsatian and the pair of LARGE black labs are EASY PREY?? arrrrggggh!!!
If she is offlead she is NOT agressive. Rather submissive actually.
*sigh*
This is really common. The fact that she’s submissive off lead suggests that it’s a timidity/security thing. But that’s no practical help. Maybe southdowner can tell us if she hasn’t drowned in Glastonbury mud.
GLASTONBURY!!!!!!!!
YAAY! – and No!, I didn’t see Neil Diamond – which is what everyone seems to be asking… (Hoosiers, Editors, Foals!)
Dogs have two main options at times of stress, fight or flight, so trapped on a lead, only one option left…
(hope this helps?)
I do NOT BELIEVE that any self respecting foal has asked you if you saw Neil Diamond!!!! (Glastonbury has *changed* . . . )
Blame that spliff I was offered by person standing next to me in the crowd while daughter & I watched Massive Attack!
So, no, Glastonbury is still as off the wall, and everyone was so happy! (NOT just because of the organic matter lol) – Foals were manic – TBs in a high wind with many tigers lurking…
So sorry you had such a miserable day.
Horrid dentist.
Urgh,
I am so lucky that I have a kind, nice friendly dentist- well dental hygenist person- she has known me [and the rest of the family] for years and hugs me when she sees me, and her daughter and my sister are friendly and she asks after my grandmother and so on and so forth….. and then the dentist comes in for the last five minutes, pronounces all to be well [hopefully'] and sends me on my merry way.
Cost is still ridiculous though.
Blargh
and this last visit wasn’t quite so idyllic, as I have been informed that my wisdom teeth NEED TO COME OUT.
And so I get to go to the dental surgeon tomorrow morning for a preliminary whatever, in preparation for next week when all four wisdom teeth have to come out. Unhappiness.
So I feel your pain, sort of. Or will, all too soon.
Blaaaah.
So anyway, thought I would commiserate a bit before sending the obligatory and customary virtual candles, chocolate, heaps and heaps of hugs, praise for Darkness [and Chaos too, so he won't feel left out], attacks of blaargh-ness [plus my nifty karate skills!] on evil dentist,
more chocolate, mountains of praise and admiration and so on,
plus some more hugs … for good measure.
—Julia
Oh, ugh, the dreaded wisdom tooth extraction–yes, I remember it well. TOO well. HOwever it sounds like you have pleasant, cooperative, civilised teeth, and lots of people have perfectly straightforward extractions–so good luck!
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Thanks.
Fingers crossed.
I kind of go ‘bleurgh’ [and 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek'] inside at the thought that in one week, my wisdom teeth will be gone.
Uck.
Okay. Sorry ’bout that.
Um, hooray about Sunshine on NPR!!!
And Amazon top 30!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You are awesome.
Hugs and chocolate.
–Julia
I heard of someone who got so annoyed with being kept waiting in doctor and dentist offices, that she paid her bill after deducting her usual hourly wage (I think she was a lawyer!) from the total. She attached a memo explaining the deduction. Don’t think it worked-the full bill still had to be paid–but it must have felt good!
I have to admit, I’m not at all sure how you would work out the dollar/pound/euro value of you time.
No, but I’m thinking of walking out if they do that to me again and daring them to charge me. If you cancel at the last minute you’re expecting to pay the full amount. I probably don’t have the nerve. But if they do it again I will certainly do SOMETHING.
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“First I need Photoshop . . . and then I need to learn to USE it.”
Have you heard of GIMP? It’s free software that does a lot of the same things Photoshop does. Just in case you wanted to try it: http://www.gimp.org/windows/
My son, who is a computer technician, is a big proponent of free-ware, and he set it up for me. I used it just a little, and as with Photoshop, which I have also used a bit, or anything else that powerful, there is a steep learning curve. But there are also tutorials available – e.g. http://mmmaybe.gimp.org/tutorials/. Now I use a simpler program that came free with a camera.
Your stories of the dogs and the dentist were horrifying, but as usual, I focused in on the horse story. My daughter has a Morgan horse that, like Drambuie, is a sweetheart on the ground, and difficult when you are in the saddle. He’s not mean and doesn’t try to dump you, but he seems very anxious. We tried to share him years ago, but I’m a nervous rider and we made each other worse. I did continue to ride him for a while after I recovered from coming off and fracturing my wrist. When we realized that he got along well with my daughter, but really had a hard time adjusting to other rider’s styles, I quit riding him. But I do still like to visit him, feed him peppermints, and so forth.
Thank you! I’ve just copied gimp to try some time earlier in the day when I have some available BRAIN. :)
There are things you can try about anxious horses. Drambuie isn’t so much anxious as a handful. He knows he’s wonderful and one of the manifestations of it is that he, ahem, overreacts to his surroundings sometimes. Very much the TB type of this sort of thing–I don’t mean all TBs are like this. The good thing about Drambuie is that he’s much too bright to go into meltdown. It’s meltdown that really scares me.
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Hi Robin,
I do hope the rest of your day went better! I think I have something that might cheer you up…at least a little. I was listening to NPR on my lunch break and to my great surprise and delight, there was a segment on books to take on a plane trip to ease the boredom. The librarian who was presenting these listed a couple of books that sounded kind of interesting and then my earks pricked up considerably as she said “Sunshine, by Robin McKinley”! Here’s a link if you want to see it. Sunshine is just a few books down the list. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91364064
Yes, trust me, I’m THRILLED. (In spite of Con being handsome.) I hope LOTS OF PEOPLE were listening . . . are looking up the link.
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About four-legged cars…
My husband and I were discussing something similar today – or rather opposite, and he again mentioned a childhood memory (he’s told me this story before), but I thought maybe this might be something you might enjoy hearing.
Well, this must be sometime in the 70:s, at that time fresh vegetables were brought to Karachi by cart (now they probably use trucks, but the traffic is much worse and no doubt would be very bad for animals anyway), drawn by – camel. They’d leave their villages about three o’clock in the morning to cover the 50-70 kilometres to the market in Karachi, carts about 4-5 times larger than horse-carts laden with vegetables and owner (quite often) sleeping on top.
One time my husband saw such a camel-cart encountering an obstacle – a parked car – in its path. The owner was sleeping and the camel rounded the car and came back to its ordinary route. But not only did he pass the car himself, he actually drew the big, cumbersome cart clear past the car as well! (Probably looking as disdainful as only a camel can and certainly – I actually asked and he was – chewing busily.)
I’d like to see any car do THAT! (Sniff!)
(Also this of course makes me think of the world’s greatest mathematician…)
LOL! Yes, lovely! And it’s exactly why those of us who are animal-soppy and backward and retro actually also have a POINT.
All right, so tell us about the world’s greatest mathematician. :)
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The world’s greatest mathematician is a camel named You Bastard, and appears in Terry Pratchett’s novel Pyramids. He contemplates equations while chewing his cud and living up to his name in supercilious camel fashion.
Thank you! I (whisper it) fell behind on my Pratchetts a while ago . . .
“Also this of course makes me think of the world’s greatest mathematician…)”
Ah, yes, You B*st*rd, right? Cud cud cud! I loved those camels.
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