Hmmmm

Following my bath on Saturday, I have been declared a "hairy beast". Absolute bloody insult if you ask me. I'm apparently going to be clipped this week to "smarten me up", which is fine, because I've been told that a very smart new waffle-rug has been ordered to keep me warm in the shed when my coat comes off.

The posh twat has been giving me huge amounts of grief for being small and hairy, but what I've not told him is that according to Sid, the shed cat, the fat posh twat is also getting clipped to make him shiver off some of his fat. Sid knows this, because Frank (who lives down at the house and is best mates with Sid) got told by Miss Lily Whiskers who got told by Floss, who overheard Helen telling Huw that she wanted to clip Jeitoso this week because he can then start doing some work.

Got to love the farm grapevine.

Bloody cat...

So, this morning I'm in bed. You know the senario, deep in fresh straw, snoozing away dreaming of apples and hunky black shetland stalions, when I was startled out of my slumber by the human opening the shed door. Fantabulous thinks I.. breakfast is en-route followed by a couple of hours grazing in the field in the morning sunshine. How can a Sunday morning get any better, thinks I?

But NO. The human has come into the shed to feed a fucking CAT. I've seen the black furry thing around the sheds the last couple of days, but Jeitoso posh twat had told me that it was just a random stray cat and so I ignored it. What a fucking lying posh twat bastard that horse is. Apparently, the black fuzz ball I've been seeing is Sid the shedcat and it's his shed and the servants humans I've been issued with are stupid enough to do all his bidding. He gets fed twice a day, AND so the posh twat Jeitoso tells me, Sid gets fed down at the house on demand too!! Apparently there are 9 cats on this farm and the whole farm revolves around THEM. To add insult to injury, she didn't even bring me so much as a fucking carrot - she just left us with manky hay! BITCH. 

So, apparently I have 2 options. Call the RSPCA and complain about the service, or become a cat. Still, I suppose being a cat is better than being called a fucking dog!

I was asked....

Why am I called Doughnut?

Well, HELLLOO!!!  It's because I'm SWEEEEET, Mofo!

Well that didn't go to fucking plan...

So, there I am, pulling faces in the cattle shed when the female servant came in and dragged, yes dragged me and that fat tub of lard, Jeitoso out of the shed. She shoved him in the field and took me down to the garden. THEN SHE PUT ME IN THE FUCKING PIG PEN!!! WITH PIGS!!! What the FUCK was she thinking? So I trashed it and jumped out. Anyway... long story short, I ended up in the main field with four posh twats  lusitanos, one of whom was Jeitoso. Of course, he was giving it large, making out that he was hard, by chasing me around the field. Of course, he couldn't catch me because I'm the right weight and svelt and he's a fat fucker bit overweight.

So, after an afternoon of stuffing my face on grass, the female servant came and caught me. I thought it was for something nice, because she had apples, but no, the BITCH had an ulterior plan. A FUCKING BATH!! She gave me a bath!! What made it worse, was that her "friend" was with her, helping. The "friend" refered to me as a bit like a large dog. What the FUCK is with these people? First I'm sent to a fucking DOG rescue, then I'm refered to as a large dog. HELLLOO people!!! I'm a PONY. Spelt P.O.N.Y. I am NOT a fucking dog! Anyway, this "friend", lets call her "retard" knows nothing about horses. Nothing. She couldn't even tie me up. Instead she stood there on the end of my lead rope in a dress and leather cowboy boots and tried to give me a fucking bath with a yellow hosepipe. She then said I looked like her DOG! Fucking hell. I'm calling the RSPCA.

Sofia is a wuss.

I know that I was sent to Wales as a babysitter for a skanky lusitano mare with ishoos stunning and well bred Shetland who's planning on world domination being the perfect pony, but really, the things I have had to put up with are simply unacceptable. So much so, I am thinking of calling the RSPCA. I mean, not only am I living in a bloody cattle shed, but last night for dinner, I only had best quality hay and 3, yes 3!! carrots! Who the hell only gets 3 carrots in their dinner?? I want AT LEAST 12!! AND I'm being made to share a pen with a right fat tub of lard at the moment. Jeitoso is (he reckons, anyway) a pedigree 16.1hh Lusitano Posh twat  who's on a diet because he's such a lard arse and has to get fit and avoid the dreaded laminitis.

So, because I'm such a perfect pony, I've been aiding his fitness regime by chasing him around the pen, biting his backside and pulling faces. Just in the spirit of motivation, you understand. Things are also going to hot up later. Apparently, this morning the two slaves humans who live here and I've been dumped issued with, are going to try and get Sofia the wussy mare that I'm supposed to babysit into the shed with us. Considering that she's scared shitless of me, that'll be interesting! I shall update later!

Jeez you just can't get the staff!!!

Well, I supose I had better start this blogging lark now the servant has sorted things out.

I'll start at the beginning...

I was born, I lived in a garden, blah, blah, blah (I knew I should have copied the first 5 chapters of Black Beauty) and somehow ended up at Wiccaweys BORDER COLLIE Rescue and INCIDENTALLY - who the fuck thought I looked like a Border Collie when I was moving home? I know that my previous humans pre Wiccaweys treated me like the DIva that I am, but Jeez, has no one ever heard of the ILPH or Redwings? A fucking DOG rescue for Chrissake! Delusional morons - since when did I look like a dog? And while we're on the subject of dogs, can someone tell that little shit ASBO Glen that the next time that little bastard does a fly-by my back hooves, he'll be flying to fucking Australia, not pigging Cardiff Bay! Anyway, I ended up at Wiccaweys and I'm going to continue this tomorrow because the new slave has my food. Mmmmm fooood...