Hail Maximus! All hail!

We've been having some seriously freaky weather here the past few days, which has meant not a lot of out and about for Max.

We went for a walk with The Ent on Good Friday, did some Alpaca watching and were mostly well behaved, all three of us. Well, except for the big splash. Big puddles abounded, and Max likes to investigate big puddles. The fact that he stomps in them, which resulted in puddle spattered trousers for the Ent, is an unhappy consequence of Max's curiosity and playfulness. Though the Ent insists that Max does these things quite deliberately.

Saturday we had rain, sleet and lots of wind. Too much wind to even make the indoor school a viable option, so Max and I did some clicker work in his box, but nothing more taxing than that.

Today, we went for a walk in hand, just the two of us, and I decided just the head collar was enough, no need for his bridle. We left the yard in bright sunshine, with me thinking I was possibly wearing too many layers of clothes to see off the chill in the air.

We fairly plodded down the lane, but I let Max do as he pleased and set the pace because I'd already decided it wasn't really a working walk, just a friendly stroll.

We turned off the lane and I told Max we'd do a turn around "the sheep field" because it's a fair old size and has good hills to build up those quarters of his. Apart from a curious dog, nothing interfered with our companionable amble.

Until we got to the top of the slippery slope. The skies had become grey, the wind had picked up and then we found ourselves in the middle of a hail storm. Stinging hail stones whipped against my face, but that was of little consequence as Max lost his marbles and I lost my footing.

"The sky! The sky is falling! It's turned inside out! We're under fire! RETREAT!"

"Hush Max, steady. It's weather. It can't hurt you."

"It IS hurting me! Like hot little needles. RETREAT!"

This conversation was carried out as Max, head held high and proud, eyes on stalks, Riverdanced around me in circles, all flailing hooves and tail like a flag.

"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree..."

I started tentatively, hanging on for grim death as my feet continued to slip on the wet grass."

"NO KOOKABURRA! RETREAT!"

At this point, the hail storm stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Snort. Head toss. Another snort.

"OK, sweetpea?"

"Not bovvered."