Patting Pat

Things you should know:
1. Ivie is terrible at taking compliments
2. Pat is a bull

I know these two things seem unrelated but bear with me.

There are lots of things I like and admire about Ivie but he won't hear a word of it. Any attempts at giving him a compliment are met with, "Steady!" or "Be wise" and other such phrases.

On one of my first visits to the farm, Ivie asked if I'd like to go with him on the quad bike to check the cows (that's 'coos' for anyone from Wigtownshire). This involved me sitting side saddle and trying not to slide off as we went round corners or across steep slopes (an excellent alternative to sit-ups for strengthening my core).

There we were at the top of the farm when he said, "I'm going to take you to meet Pat and Henry". It took me a moment to realise that Pat and Henry must be animals and then it dawned on me. "Are they bulls?" I asked quietly, really hoping for the opposite of the answer I knew was coming.

The thing is, I'm a big feardy. My brain knows that the story book version of bulls stamping the ground and running towards anything red isn't reality. They're big and heavy and only really motivated to move when there's food or a bit of action with a cow on the menu. But my brain also tells me that I'm supposed to be scared of bulls. Let's just say, I'm a work in progress.

Eilidh is not a big feardy

So we made a pact. I'd pat Pat when Ivie took a compliment. A Pat Pact if you like.

Henry

All this is a preamble to what happened this week. Ivie mentioned over lunch that a man was coming to trim one of the bull's hooves. Not Pat. I think it was called Geezer or Geiser or something. Some of them have what I'd consider old man names (like Pat and Henry) and others have odd names like Horton and Batman. Although I had a dream about Batman where he was called William so that's what I call him now. That was my Dad's Sunday name so I won't be pursuing any Freudian analysis on that one...

I digress. So, after lunch this shiny pick-up arrived with what looked like a mobile disco on a trailer (I'm in my late 40s, permitting me to use the phrase 'mobile disco'). I didn't go and spectate because I'm a big feardy I was working but Ivie took a video of The Hoof GP*, explaining to him about my blog. This guy has thousands of followers on social media from all over the world, mainly in cities. I think people are fascinated by things that are outside their everyday life and this is outside most people's everyday life.

The contraption on the back of the trailer is like a cross between an electic chair and those stirrups doctor's offices in movies have. It shackles and tips the animal so that it can be worked on safely, making it swift and painless for everyone concerned.

Ivie came back into the house to show me the clip and tell me all about it.

"Thanks, that was really thoughtful."
"Ah, away with you."

I think I'm safe from the Pat Pact for a while yet.

The Hoof GP in action

PS
Here's my favourite Pat joke:
What do you call Postman Pat when he's retired?
Pat.

*The Hoof GP
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