Monday, 8 November 2010

The Balloon of Doom

Something that happened a while back, that I remembered this morning...

So, I walk Henry around the fields at work before I start work each morning. So you have to imagine that on this occasion I was wandering round frozen fields in a smart skirt, tights, wellies, and something of a daze (I really don't do mornings).

As we wandered I noticed a deflated foil balloon caught in the hedge - one of those ones you can buy for people's birthdays. Henry was quite interested in this, but left it and on we went.

On the way back it occurred to me that really, I should pick the balloon up and bin it. After all, it looked messy and besides that, some poor groom might have to try and lead a horse past it later. With the special equine sixth sense in such matters, any horse would instantly recognise that balloon as a cunningly disguised pony-eating monster and all manner of trouble would surely result.

Of course, as soon as I showed an interest in the balloon Henry had to have it. However he was too slow and I got there first. It was then that his demonic intelligence surfaced. Shooting me a sidelong glance, he shot under a fence into a paddock and started eating frozen horsepoo (bleurgh), ignoring all my cries for him to desist from this revolting behaviour and come back to the authorised side of the fence. Angered by this recalcitrance, I dropped the balloon and started to climb over the fence. At which point Henry, seeing I was stranded astride the top rail, abandoned his snack and shot back under the fence to seize his foily prize, parading around brandishing it like a trophy. Which was when I noticed for the first time that I had an audience... my boss and another director.

It's times like these that make you wonder why dog ownership seemed such a good idea. And I laddered my damn tights too!

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