Cobmalian

The unspoiled world of senior cobs, David and Master Dibble

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Location: United Kingdom

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Cob of mystery


The Dads had arranged to go out to lunch today, so Other Dad put us out to graze early at 8.30. We scampered off into the field first thing and felt quite jolly. They came to the yard by 10.15 and attended to our stables. When he had finished, before rushing off to lunch, Dad stood by the fence and I saw him and walked all the way over to have a chat. In this instance virtue was rewarded because Dad gave me a handul of extra strong minties before he left.

We had a relaxed day in the field. Dibby, Cricket and Leo tend just to get their heads down and eat, whereas I like to socialise over the fence a little and to have a play. Dad hasn't put my muzzle on yet, but I know he's thinking about it, since the odd comment is being made about my increasing weight. Today Kate said my bottom was getting like an apple: I hope it is like a good English one like Dad gives us and not a woolly French Golden Delicious.

Both Dads came to get us in at 4.00 and washed our hooves and groomed us. Dad was thinking of riding but, since it was still blustery, decided to leave it for today and hope that the weather isn't too bad tomorrow morning. Whilst he was grooming me Dad was telling me about the inquiries he has been making about my previous life.

He learned from Michelle that I was acquired for Elaine, my previous owner, by Robin who's is well known in the Warwickshire Hunt and Countryside Alliance circles. Dad wrote to Robin to ask about my origins and he responded on the telephone very quickly and helpfully. He explained that I had been seen with a dealer in Yorkshire called Julie. He thought I would be ideal for Elaine and so he popped me onto the lorry with the other horses he was acquiring.

Dad spoke to Julie, who obviously remembered dealing with Robin and confirmed that I had been brought over from Ireland from a dealer named Peter, but since he dealt with many horses each year from numerous farms, he wouldn't be able to remember me. She did comment that many of the Irish cobs like me were broken to harness, which ties up with what Sara and Julie thought. I know ideally Dad would have liked to send a photo to Ireland and see if he could get any more background information, but there you go.

Dad asked me if I remembered going on a boat and being with all the other horses coming over, but I didn't want to talk about that and frisked his pockets for mints to change the subject. It seems funny to be a cob with a past; I may start to think of myself as David, cob of mystery.

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