des ja vue

Tonight David went missing and suddenly my mobile rang. text; 'a dog is attacking mr'. Mr is myIrish thoroughbred horse. He was being chased around the field by a collie and was in quite a state. Fortunately the collie scarpered when David yelled at him. We shall have to watch out for a repeat visit but... it reminded me of a dog attack years ago when we had a small holding near Bovey Tracey. I left the house one morning to be greeted by a neigh from my horse 'Bale' (Harper's Bazaar) this had to be bad news; she only ever made a noise when there was a problem, and there was. I went into her field to find that she had a huge gash down one side, her whole shoulder joint was exposed and she had further wounds to her sides and rump. After 24 years with me it was clearly the end of the road. We had a wonderful vet and he came and put her down. Her two daughters came and supported her in her distress and after we had destroyed her they stood over her for the rest of the day and over her grave that night. She had clearly been chased past something sharp and David went off to check on the rest of the stock. One other 2 year old was in distress and would not move otherwise they were all right. The vet considered that they had been chased probably by a dog or dogs. As we had seen three boxers chasing the chickens in the same field two nights before we were pretty sure who the culprits were. We taxed our neighbours with it and they were adamant that it was not the case. Two days later one of the boxers turned up with a very recently live lamb's leg in his mouth and there was no doubt.

The evening that they attacked and killed my wonderful horse that had taken me round Badminton and Burghleigh on two occassions was a wake. She had always been very much a product of the island of her birth, Ireland. Brave, clever, idiosyncratic and slightly nuts but fanatical. At 15.2 carrying 75 kg she had been fearless across country and did fences that some felt were unjumpable. Frank Wheldon thanked me for jumping the triple bounce dog kennel as if it was a small grid and she was pictured jumping the Normandy bank 'with a stride' apparently impossible, easily if for me in a rather heart stopping fashion. But all that was over. Wonderful friends from up the valley came down with their digger and we dug a hole to bury her in. A couple came down as planned from Hampshire to stay and we got stuck into the red wine. Several bottles later the filly wasn't looking to good. I think I was in shock at the whole day. I'd had a three hour lecture on marketing to give Thank god for John Harvey Jones and the VHS machine for providing most of that one, I was in shock at the turn of events.

At some point it was decided that the filly should go to Langford vet college to be operated on. We loaded her up met the vet at the top of Holden Hill and drove to Bristol University Vet school arriving at 3am. She was in distress and had terrible stats. We then drove home the adrenalin that had kept me going to try and save her rapidly deserted me and we stopped again at Taunton for more coffee. Getting back to the farm by 7am we just started the day with lots of bacon and egg and a dullness that suited the moment. The vet college rang to say that the filly had died on the operating table her whole alimentary canal, twisted beyond aid, by being chased over the fence and falling and struggling in the ditch. To dispel the mood we decided to go for a ride on Dartmoor. Got the lorry stuck en route and took hours to get disentangled. Definitely a weekend to forget. Reading David's text brought back the nightmare . How can people lose such control over their dogs? It also reminded me how completely careless people are when looking after themselves. No consideration whatever of the consequences of their actions. It can be very tiring. RIP Bale