Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Tails From the Farm

Great Eats and More
The continuation

With Jim and Aurora settling into the new space, and by settling in, I mean pigging out, it was time to begin tackling the jobs list again. Almost before I realized it, there was lunch to prepare. Once hubby was fed, it was time to get at another job from the list. Leaving the dishes to do later, pretty much like I always do, I headed for the hallway to the back door. Hubby was already about to go out.
“Hey,” I protested, “who dropped my vest on the floor? I left it on the banister.”
“Oh,” ever so innocently, he shrugs, “I have no idea.”
“Um, there’s only two of us here,” I counter with a roll of my eyes. “There’s you, and there’s me, and I happen to know, it wasn’t me. That means, it had to be you. Why, did you throw my vest, on the floor?”
That old, fleece vest was my go to on chilly days, when it was too warm for a jacket, but too cool to just wear a pullover or the like.
Hubby appeared determined, to keep up the pretense, “well, there was all that crap piled up there. I guess, I didn’t notice when I picked up my coat from the top. I guess that’s when it fell on the floor.”
“You guess, do you?” I practically snorted, “You do realize that so called crap, you’re talking about, was two of your coats, with my vest between them, eh? Your coat,” I pointed at the one he now wore, “and another of your coats. Don’t say another word. You darn well knew that my vest fell on the floor, and you left it.”
He was so busted, and knew it. All I got from him was a grin, then he was out the door. After stuffing my phone into one, vest pocket, a few carrot chunks in another, I did the same.
Sweetpea had asked that I check on Jim, and check on him I did. Not that it was necessary. Aurora and Jim, still had their noses firmly in the grass. I doubt if they’d lifted their heads, since we left them to get to it. There was no silent viewing then quick retreat, without being seen. Aurora spotted me, and had to go and tell the world about it. Letting out a loud neigh that was more befitting a far larger, huskier horse than the dainty princess, Aurora was, she was making sure that I heard her. I’m not entirely sure what she says, but think it’s something along these lines.
“Human! Bossypants human, bring us senior feed! Bring it now! We’re starving!”
This demanding bellow she makes, must tell Jim that I’m near, as his head snaps up and excited anticipation takes over his every feature. He often adds his voice to Aurora’s.
“Hey, don’t forget me. I want senior, too!”
He comes at a purposeful walk or trot, towards where he thinks I am, whether by following Aurora’s voice, or listening for me. It’s uncanny how accurate he can be. This time, he appeared about to overshoot the entrance to the pen, and I felt like, he was going to hit the fence in his excited enthusiasm. We had been practicing a word to use, when Jim was about to run into something, a fence, shelter, a hill or possibly a horse. We use the word fence quite often, but have found a sharp, strong ‘HO’ achieves the best results. I used that specific ‘Ho’, and he did, as abruptly as if he’d been reined in. We’d used the same command a few times over a couple week period, and he got it. He understands that he needs to stop, and immediately. It’s rather impressive to see happen, and we’re grateful for his quick response. No one wants to see him get injured. As if remembering to be careful, Jim slowly made his way into the pen. All I had was a big handful of grass, which they were both quite disappointed with.
“Where’s the good stuff?” Jim wanted to know, as he snuffled my feet and legs.
“At least give me a carrot,” Aurora says, trying to get her nose into my pocket.
“I’m out of carrots,” I tried to show her, though she didn’t believe a word, and kept right on trying to pickpocket me. She didn’t care that Jim doesn’t eat carrots. She wanted what she wanted, and she wanted carrots.
After giving both extremely disappointed horses a little pat, which they weren’t at all interested in, I left them to get back to tackling my jobs list. As I glanced back at the horses, I had to smile. Not only were Jim and Aurora intently ‘watching’ me leave, the three goofballs that had run over to see what was going on, when the girlchild had shown Jim his boundaries, were still there. Poor chubsters, they were still jealous, and obviously feeling hard done by. The grass truly is greener, on the other side of the fence, even when it’s not that green anymore.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB