My farrier tells me that he’s the only person who can enter a certain client’s property without being set upon by the resident Rottweiler.  When he turns up to shoe the horses, this ferocious dog flashes a broad smile and prances alongside his ute all the way to the stables.  The Rotty knows that the farrier’s visits bring a banquet of hoof trimmings.  Horse hoof.  A doggy delicacy.

Last week I took our Labrador Lila to meet the farrier.  I thought it might broaden her horizons.  She could see what some humans do for a living.  Learn about equine podiatry.  Take in some country air.  Whatever.  I hadn’t considered that, once given a taste of Lily’s toe, nothing else would matter.  Her scope would narrow to hoof, hoof, hoof and more hoof.  [read more below] 

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In those rare moments when she wasn’t scavenging for trimmings (creeping on her belly to sneak yet another piece), Lila did have a little poke around.  Usually at the wrong time in the wrong place.  Too close to a red-hot shoe.   Too tempted by a tin box full of nails.  And too eager to snatch Lily’s long-suffering muzzle.  Leaving me in the unfortunate role of killjoy.

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