Diary of a Highland Lady - April/May 2004
You just can't trust hobs to get things right, can you? When I asked Button and Beau to take in Morgana and give her a home, it seemed a simple enough request. 'Look after her', I said. 'Make her feel at home', I said. What happened? After several weeks they managed to make her and themselves so depressed that I had to take her in myself. So now there are the three of us - me, Robyn and Morgana. I have to say Morgana settled in straight away.
It was more a case of us getting used to her, really. After all, she's not as refined as Robyn or myself. I wouldn't go quite as far as to say she's common, it's just that she's never really acquired the social niceties, if you know what I mean. Put it this way, I enjoy a nice piece of well-cooked venison; Robyn likes lightly cooked chicken - Morgana likes her food furred, feathered, possibly even still walking. She's a typical working girl, I'm afraid. You know the sort. Litter corners optional; beds are for flopping in any old how; and her language! Well, talk about calling a spade a spade. Still I suppose you can't blame her, she's probably seen enough spades in her life. Having said all that, she's all right in a rough and ready sort of way. Robyn and I will work on her to rub off the rough edges, so to speak, but it will be an uphill battle. Still, she's fun in many ways. Would you believe she even got us to have a tag wrestling match? We all laughed until our sides ached, but I'd hate everyone to know we let our hair down to that extent!
If it wasn't enough to have Morgana enter our fold, I had to endure the comeback of Dolcie, the Lamb from Hell. She'd been ill and had to come inside for special nursing. I think it was all a bit of a sham myself. Dolcie has never really accepted that she's a mere sheep and should live in a field. When I heard Dr Jeff say she needed to be 'drenched' I was really quite looking forward to ducking stools and such like. However, it seems it just meant a dose of medicine. Those few days were awful. Would you believe we had to share a bedroom with her? Since we are now a group of three ladies (well, two and Morgana) we have a suite in the small barn for our night accommodation. It's really quite charming in a rustic sort of way, a mixture of hay bales and velvet hammocks. At least it was charming until Dolcie moved in. She bleated her blooming head off at first, then just as we thought she'd quieted down she started snoring. It was dreadful, but worse was to follow. The medicine she'd had must have had a disastrous effects on her tummy. Without going into the distressing details I will simply say that it was like living through an earthquake and any canary within a five mile radius probably dropped off its perch because of the poisonous gases. Thank heavens she recovered quickly and has been sent packing off to the lamb field. It was simply unbearable.
Talking of unbearable, the Royal Scots Raccoon Guards are as bad as ever. Not that Dr June thinks so. She's actually said she thinks they are settling down and getting sensible at last. Talk about guillible! Just because they seemed to sit quietly and listen to her telling them about their wild North American cousins she used to have come and turn out her trash bins, and the distant South American cousins she watched when they came to look for crabs on the beaches. Little does she realise, they are just trying to work out how to hi-jack wheelie bins or commandeer a boat on the lochside! Someone asked me if the Royal Scots Raccoon Guards had individual names. Yes, they do. There's Atuki and Weeka, who are the two boys, and Sha-wei, the little girl. The names are all from different North American Indian words for the raccoon, which effectively means that, translated, their names are raccoon, raccoon and raccoon. Displays a remarkable lack of imagination on Dr June's and Dr Jeff's part, wouldn't you say? I have my own names for them, but I'm far too much of a lady to say.
You could ask Morgana, though. I'm sure she'd tell you.