Before I go any further, I would like to make clear that no animals were harmed in the making of this column. You might think that goes without saying, but I don’t take anything for granted when a woman I know has just been censured by the RSPCA for not providing her horses with a ‘comfortable’ place to lie down in their field.
‘What is she meant to do, give them four-poster beds?’ the builder boyfriend asks me when I tell him. Possibly. Or mattresses inside bespoke tents, like a Glastonbury VIP area. Never mind that horses don’t like enclosed spaces and prefer to sleep in the open. Even if you give them a shelter they often won’t go in it.
Never mind that it is normal horse behaviour to lock their knees and sleep standing up. As prey animals, they like to remain vigilant. Never mind all that. The tofu-munchers who think they speak for the animals are now making Jo-Lo style dressing-room demands on behalf of horses on the basis that because they would not like to lie on grass then neither will a horse. You’re in danger of having your nags taken off you nowadays unless you provide them with white lilies and Kabbalah water. So please, if you are reading this, members of the animal welfare brigade, do not jump to conclusions. What I am about to tell you is intended to be humorous.
Right. Here we go. It was time for Tara, the retired chestnut mare, to have her teeth and vaccinations done. Once an aggressive bucking bronco, Tara is now in her late twenties (about 85 in human years) and lives peacefully in a field with a skewbald cob called Dandy, her horsey husband. But my vet thought it would be easier if we brought her to a nearby stable yard to give her teeth the once over.
To look at her now, you wouldn’t think she was the same horse that used to catapult me through the air.

Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in