Just under eight weeks ago, I marched into a local hospital and got a new hip. Yup, brand spanking new. I believe the cause of my hip-decline stemmed from a horse fall 9 years ago, but that's purely my own theory.
Anyway, my less-than-perfect- condition meant husband, Rick, had complete donkey duty for several weeks; my only contact with the beasts was waving from the car as Rick drove me to and from physical therapy.
However, there was instances when dinner was being fed, the devils escaped from the donkey yard and wandered down the driveway toward the garage. On one occasion I heard plastic tubs being overturned and hobbled at my fastest through the house and out the back steps to see my babies. When they saw I had no cookies, they were completely uninterested in a visit and wandered off to chew at some ivy. I was heartbroken. I had been their (almost) sole caretaker for three years and they were flipping me off.
Well, I am still using a cane so everyday care is still around the corner. But when I do get back into the daily routine, there is going to be a very very long conversation with those three long-ears. You betcha me.
