A frustrating thing happened today; my ‘advance and retreat’ head-collar evasion strategy was thwarted.
Kat came striding across the field with my soggy grassy munchies at the ready. Mmmh, here we go, grub up! Then I spotted the head-collar, which meant a training session might also be on the menu. So, I actioned the retreat.
Now, there is an obvious flaw with this. I am turning my back on my soggy grassy munchies, which, as you know, I’m rather fond of. So, I combine a bit of advance with the retreat – just to see if Kat is prepared to drop the head-collar and let me get stuck in, without being snared.
That’s a win win for me. I get the lovely grub and don’t have to leave my field and pals.
The advance and retreat usually goes on for about ten minutes, while Kat follows, waits, follows, waits. Between you and me, I sometimes have to remind myself why I’m doing this – it’s very entertaining.
Now, I am not of an awkward disposition. I just don’t see why I should happily leave the safety of my own field and own kind. It’s scary out there!
There are large noisy machines that whiz past me. Humans sitting on two wheeled contraptions that creep up on me and then swoosh past. More importantly, how can I be sure there aren’t any hungry lions hiding behind the hedges or around the next corner?
Kat says there are no lions in Derbyshire. How does she know? Humans aren’t as intuitively tuned into these dangers as horses. So every cell, in my extremely hairy body, remains on high alert.
Anyway, back to the thwarting. Today, as soon as I began my retreat, Kat walked back to the gate and sat down! What in the blazing green grasses was this now!?
After a while, she came towards me again, armed with said headcollar. Cue, retreat. And, there she was, back at the gate, sitting down! What in the name of Pegasus was she doing?
Now, I’m smarter than I look. It’s all the hair – it masks my intelligence. Next time she came to me, I tried a small retreat and just turned my head. Off she went! Major thwarting was clearly staring me in the face.
However, I did what any dogged extremely hairy cob would do – I put it to the test and carried on.
The sight of my grassy munchies – so close yet so far – was my eventual undoing. And, I stood, without moving a single hair on my hairy body, while she snared me with that ******* head-collar.
She seemed very pleased with this, clearly believing victory was hers.
Round 1 is all I can say. I am very resourceful as well as very hairy.