… Four o’clock on an idyllic Spring afternoon. A yelp, whelp, scream from the wood, a sprinting Rosie (aka Meg), and a West Kent Sprint champion (aka Sandie) rushed there. Bigboy (aka George), is transfixed in horror and shock, with a patch of skin hanging loose.
Sandie couldn’t move him, so carried him to the back doorstep and knocked politely to ask if I was receiving visitors. Dumped him in the car, and raced to Builth and David the Vet. No blues, but Sandie “neee-Naaarred” all the way so that helped clear the traffic.
Both vets are on visits, but after twenty minutes of waiting with George in the car, David returns. “George, you stupid b++++er, what have you done? Oh! Hello you two! Bring him in”! We left him and returned at 6. 30 to take him home, woozy, scared and stubborn.
He’s no CB (confined to barracks, or “gated”. Cause? Barbed wire is the consensus, but we’re opting for a cut-off branch stub that he bumped into chasing whatever danger or prey was in his mind! Prognosis? Anti bacs, painkillers, and quiet!
Hot weather on the way, and we don’t like it. We generally don’t stop, there’s…
Three months into playing in the tunnel, what is it looking like? https://youtu.be/L9Da85uCQUQ?is=4wKPIP_pLAxEz5gp
The time is late afternoon, the date is early May, after some heavy rain and…
Our wild flower meadow and orchard is a riot of colour and activity from the…
and the Turkey is already fat! But rather incongruously she is in the garden! Not…