Confessions of a City Girl

I don’t like animals. There, I’ve said it. I know this makes me a bad person. I wish I liked them more, really I do.

There are however two exceptions. The first is cats and the second is my pet goldfish Horatio (who has ADHD and a penchant for neon.)

So coming to work on a farm full of animals for the summer might have turned out to be the worst decision I had ever made. My thinking was that it was about time I came face to face with my four legged nemeses and that this experience for me would be a make or break in terms of whether I could ever become an animal lover.

Since I’ve been here these have been my first animal experiences:

- A baby goat has shat on me.
- I’ve brushed a camel.
- I’ve watched a sheep play football and a piglet dance.
- I’ve tried and failed to round up a pig called Carla.
- I’ve fell in love with three kittens, Diablo, Marilyn and Velcro.
- I’ve seen a baby duck being dissected. Gross.
- I’ve been woken up daily by a cockerel at 6am.
- I’ve had dog slobber on me at regular intervals.

Also, today I took a dog for a walk. Now I know this is a pretty normal activity for many, part of a daily routine for dog owners everywhere. But for me, this is a big step. Of course I’ve been on walks with dogs, but always with other people. Today was my first solo dog walk. Just me, Oakley the Golden Retriever and the open road. We walked to the post box and back, looked round a medieval church and headed home. The evening sun was warm but not too hot, the countryside was beautiful, golden fields, blue sky, blah blah blah. Basically, I quite enjoyed it. Perhaps a turning point?

I’m not promising I’m going to be the next Dr Doolittle, but it’s a start I guess...

Harriet x

PS – to honour the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death today we listened to Beat It once and Andy tried to moonwalk. We felt that was sufficient.