He refuses to die.
This time last year Leaping Louis aka limping Louis was ready to drop, or just as ready for the vet to do him in. It would have been a mercy and my daughter promised that she wouldn’t let him suffer.
Today he almost flattened me in his haste to eat the enormous swede I bought for him, and then galloped round the field like a foal before rolling on his back like a nutcase, but of course only in the filthiest, muddiest part of the field. He’s a new horse. Maybe I should eat some of the stuff my daughter feeds him. Even the vet is flabbergasted and demands to know just what she’s feeding him, as he’s now well over thirty and should have been dog food years ago according to the ever helpful vet.
Second part of the day was a little expensive. When my daughter (allegedly) drove her car into a kerb a few months ago she buggered up something and as a result I had to buy her a new tyre. Today that new tyre was bald as a coot so we had to go back and get another, only to find that Fiat had not fixed it because it was on warranty and weren’t going to make any money out of it. Apparently she trashed the tracking, toe-in, camber and caster – I don’t know idea what that is, either.
I’ll be glad to get back to work on Tuesday just to earn back some of the small fortune she costs me every single time she draws a breath.
Oh, and she doesn’t know this yet, but Harley our tomcat just returned from a night on the town proudly bearing most of a mouse in his mouth. She’s going to go bonkers if she finds the other bit in her bedroom – again. And if it’s not there, I’m going to put it there.