The grazing muzzles for George and Alan arrived Saturday.
To my relief, I had ordered the right size (Best Friends Deluxe Grazing Muzzle, Pony size),
and the boys couldn't have been more cooperative as I strapped them on and made adjustments.
Lucy stands perfectly still for hers to be put on, so I can only assume that they learned from her fine example.
Them: You don't love us anymore.
Me: This hurts me more than it hurts you.
Them: We're not buyin' it.
The first few hours being muzzled were the hardest for all of us.
I kept everybody in the small pasture near the barn to contain any potential train wrecks.
There was much tail-swishing and head-tossing as they adjusted to the new world order.
George tried to scrape his off on every available surface...
...but it stayed in place. The halter has breakaway buckles that would give way
if he got hung up, but please don't tell him that.
I parked myself in the shade and kept an eye on them, hoping they would relax
and realize they could still graze...just not as much.
Every few minutes, one or the other would come over.
George: If you loved me, you would take this off.
Alan: What's the number for the ASPCA?
George: What's it going to take to make her cave in?
Alan: Keep looking pathetic. It's got to work eventually.
I removed their muzzles overnight, since they'd yet to figure out how to graze with them on.
Amazingly, they were waiting for me in the barn Sunday morning and couldn't be more cooperative
when I put the muzzles back on. That won't last.
It's only a matter of time before they figure out how to get them off, so I've closed off the back 40
and applied reflective tape in strategic places to give me a better chance of finding them.
Alan: Make that cow stop laughing at me.
Hank doesn't need a grazing muzzle.
Unlike donkeys, who can get fat on air, he can eat all he wants and stay buff.
We should all be so lucky.