Oh dear.
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♥Jul. 11th, 2014 // 07:10 pm♥
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It turns out that Mike was right about it being a bad day.
After he got kicked, I went off to Pilates, which was fine, but the rain as I was coming back down the motorway was terrifying. Even so, we went off to the Kent County show, hoping that it would cheer up a bit. It did in the sense that the cloud came down sufficiently that it was no longer technically *raining*. We weren't terribly impressed, but that was partly it looked as though today's horse showing was 50,000 Fractionally Different Hunter Classes, and anyway it wasn't fit weather to stand and watch the ponies going around in circles. Plus, we were vaguely looking for three or four things to buy, and didn't find any of them.
Jo wasn't terribly impressed, either: it was by turns scary and terribly exciting, and she couldn't go and sniff everything that she wanted to, and strange people kept petting her when she couldn't get away. She did like the crispy chicken liver strips from the overly elaborate pet food stall, though.
We came home, and spotted a fox running through the valley. I checked on the ducks, Just In Case: all ok.
Later, Mike started to make dinner. There was a crash. He's going to have to stop buying flavour shakers: they're great, but they just don't last. Later still, he got some wine glasses out. There was a crash. "What happened?" I asked, going to investigate. "All I did was put a wine glass down on the table, like--" there was another crash. Better get some more wine glasses. I don't know if we're just using them more since we moved (more people visiting, and so on) or if the new box we recently bought isn't as good as the old ones were: we had them as a wedding present, and the first batch certainly used to last longer.
As there was still some time before dinner, I suggested that we put the girls to bed. In came Magrat, in came Esme.... No Gytha. No Gytha in the stableyard. No sound of Gytha trying to find the others. No Gytha in the alley. No Gytha in the... oh, wait. Gytha lying down in the field. Gytha lying down with half her feathers plucked and a hole in her chest, where the buzzard's been at her.
We suspect that it was Act Of Horse, but have no idea if it was Baby trying to play or GB getting annoyed. A fox would have eaten more, and possibly taken her away. I'll have to phone the Duck Man and see if he can let me have another trout. |
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