“Molly is WHERE?!”
These posts should really be called, ‘How I goofed again’.
We had visitors today to look at the horses, possibly adopt one. A storm was casting intermittent rain upon us as we stood near the pole barn, and the herd was wandering down off the hill. But something was amiss; Finn was casting about, calling, and the herd was restless; Molly was not among them. I scanned the hills and fields but saw no sign of her deep black coat. Finn kept glancing up the path, towards the main gate that leads to the road. ‘Oh no’, I thought, ‘she didn’t get OUT, did she?’. I followed Finn has he headed up the path, but halfway, he turned right, up the ramp, into the old barn. The old, falling down barn that is used for hay storage only. The hay storage that was largely depleted, but where we had recently stashed over 100 bales of choice second cut. To save for a rainy day.
Yes, Molly had decided that today was that rainy day.
Inside, the big open space had been transformed to a loft party of sorts, with hay strewn everywhere, and horses having a ball.There was Rita, and Jack, and Kee and in the back, our little donkey Basil, who has inserted himself into the senior band by virtue of tenacity. And in the middle was Molly, planted in front of the formerly neat pile of rich pickings. I had to laugh. But Finn’s face was the best; stood beside me, astonished that the ‘Equus Baccanalius’ had partied without him.
Of course, I had to get them out. I circled around, and they knew what was coming; I swear I heard someone mumble ‘buzz kill’ as I herded them out of the party room. All the horses wandered without issue, too full to care, and down the hill to join the rest of the gang. I locked the door up well, because this would not have happened had I not left it OPEN…and then walked down to find my smiling guests. “Are you ok?” I ask, “I just had to get the horses out of the hay loft”…”We know” they laughed back, “As soon as you headed up the path, Molly stuck her head out of the window above us and looked down (Molly was one story above them) She was still chewing! We wondered if she was supposed to be in there”…
Thus Molly’s reputation for impishness, and mine for forgetfulness, grows.