Pastures New

Flint

There I was minding my own business, munching on some soggy lunch, when out of the blue flew a crow, with some unexpected news.

It appears that ol' Two-legs has not abandoned me forever to fend for myself and protect myself from that awful two-legs with the ghastly pink muzzle. I am to move on to pastures new.

They've sold The Stable House and my Two-legs and her Whaa have taken themselves back to the Green Isle. The Grumpy one who pretends not to fear me (but he does!) is to commute between this place and that.

I had heard rumours that this move was on the cards over the last year, but I thought that it was just talk. Sure isn't this a fine country. All the grass in the world you could eat and fresh running water only a few paces away. Fair enough, there is a bit too much running water running downwards over my head, tho' the skies are clearer today. And yes. It is a cold old place in the winter, which is why I need to invest so much of my time packing it (grass) in when I can. (I HATE that blasted muzzle!)

Poor Taffy is in his prison again. He's a bit too efficient at packing it in and his hooves are paying the price for eating too much rich grass. His Two-legs barricades him in everyday and says it is for his own good, but it's not doing my ears any good listening to him whinnying on about the smell of fresh green grass dementing him!