Unforseen consequences

How do I look in these shoes?

Last winter, we had rains and rains and more rains. This added up to mud and mud and more mud, so my very kind FarmWife (who always, and I do mean always, has my best interests in mind) spent most of a paycheck on nice gravel footing. 

This summer, we've had sun and sun and more sun. This has added up to rock hard, stone dry, rough and raspy footing for yours truly, and the sad truth is that I can't grow hoof fast enough to keep up with the wear. This goes to show you that you never can be sure how things will turn out in the end, or that no good deed goes unpunished, or that a penny spent on gravel is a penny spent on horseshoes, or on some other truism. Maybe "the wandering mule grows no hoof".

FarmWife is thinking of getting me shod all around, for what very well might be the first time in my one long and precious life. She's all about philosophizing on the virtues of the barefoot life until her darling muley comes wincing down the lane on his poor stubby toes. I don't have any wall left to trim, and my soles are tender on these rocks.

I've got four worn out feet, two worn out goats, and a round of vet and farrier visits coming. Until then, you'll have to promise to bear with my gaps in communication. FarmWife is pulling some long hours in anticipation of these visiting professionals and their not-cheap services.

Ears, woefully, to you.

FenBar