Vetting the local talent

Very disturbing news doing the rounds on the local rumour mill - well, actually just the local tire and exhaust place -  is that the very hot local vet (hot in talent, hot in looks) is taking himself off to Australia. This is outrageous news!  I suppose koalas get sick too, I couldn't tell, you don't look at those intense high octane koalas and say, oooh well Crumpet's been really lethargic doctor, do you? Koalas don't really have great big vaulting gothic ambition do they?  I digress, back to the hot vet, who is in fact Banana Mcfly's dedicated health care professional and saw her through some very unpleasant surgery (rabbit hole, labrador leg, high speed chase etc).  Said charming vet has been the only ray of hope in the dark days of McFly's health problems and yes I admit, I did sometimes think, not without aching sympathy for poor Banana Mcfly whose leg was very sore again, oooh well, not all bad, at least we get to visit the dreamy vets.  I say Vet"S" because one day McFly's dedicated man wasn't available and a replacement was offered.  My heart sank, great, McFly  is hurt again and there isn't even the consolation of seeing the dreamy vet, I think I should refuse to pay, this really isnt... oooh, Hello Mr Vet Man.... ooh no, she's just twisted it again... giggle..... twirl.... blush.  That practice is crawling with impossibly handsome men.  Its a bit like a boy band;  preppy vet, sporty vet...   Utterly outrageous.  I even sulked when Mademoislle Banana McFly received copious, yes copious, numbers of kisses on her nose to thank her for the Quality Streets she and Collie Wobbles left for Christmas.  I received exactly no kisses for the gift. Again. Outrageous. There is no official confirmation on the departure but I feel the lure of soporific koalas rings true for said character..... we are abandoned ....  Outrageous..... 

What to do? HIde the body....

This afternoon produced a situation in which you really really wish David Attenborough would turn up in his blue shirt and khakis and give you a blow by blow account of what you were looking at.  And to be fair dear reader I wasn't sure what I was looking at....

As ever, most adventures in this neck of the woods (and very nice woods they are too) start with myself, Banana McFly and Collie Wobbles setting out for our walk.  Yesterdays was a lovely 45 minutes in the snow and saw McFly pronking through the frost like a a gazelle, today, the snow had cleared and we headed off under blue skies and frosty air.  McFly, ever the vigilant hunter spent some some stalking a mole hill, poised on three legs, one front paw extended and nose  arched forward, she leaps, she lands and in a flurry of paws like rotator blades within seconds, her whole head is down a hole. Her strike rate isnt great but according to some local "Mole Man"  we only have 3 moles on the property anyway.  You mean 300? or 3000? no ... 3.... erm ...okay...

Anyway... back to Banana McFly who today  hits the jackpot and emerges from the dig with her trophy mole! And a big 'un he is too.  After letting her give him a the requisite neck breaker head shaker move so beloved of dogs, I go over to examine the little chap.  

Rather beautiful really, fantastic front diggers, neat little snout, lovely dusty brown colour... not wearing his boating outfit today I see, but then I did extract a drowned bloated Ratty from the horses water bucket this morning (what CSI would call a "floater") so boating and visiting Toad may not be on the agenda this afternoon. 

Further inspection of Mr Mole reveals that he is a subtle, modest sort of creature and feels soft to touch. Oh dear he' has some straw on him let me just move that off.... oh its... not.... its n..... AAAaaaaahhhhhhh!!!  OMG!!!!  ergggghhhh ...... oooh ..... the blank unholy horror of realising I have just flicked a male mole's protruding unmentionables is just too awful to relive even in memory. Instant panic, sweats, horror, yuck and yuck and also YUCK.

What do I do now? I have just unwillingly participated in some bizarre countryside pornographic mole snuff movie.... what to do?  Nothing for it but to hide the body and act natural.... I grab Mr Mole by one powerful digger, dash across the field to a tree and pat him into the ground under a large piece of moss under a tree and immediately shout- Ballie!! Come along doggies.... act cool and walk away.... just walk away.....I suspect this is one of those (forgive the pun) seminal countryside experiences that will surely never fade from the memory. Ever..... EVER....