The pony grabbed the bag of carrots and ran across the field with it in her mouth, tail in the air, munching on the entire thing, including, of course, the plastic.
She was so pleased with herself there was no way I was getting near her. She ran around in circles, bucking and cavorting and flinging the bag about in her mouth, stopping occasionally to chew, as I ran one way, then another to try to catch her.
Mothers nowadays do notapprove of their children beingflung about like rag dolls
‘No no no no no! I can’t take any more!’ I begged her, because the spaniel is under the vet with suspected ‘about to fall of her perch’itis. I’m calling it that because she’s old.
She’s eating and going for walks and quite chipper. She’s enjoying what will no doubt turn out to be her last days. She’s on steroids, prednisolone, and the effect varies.
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