The sound of hoofbeats 'cross the glade

For the gazillonth time two of Mr Disastrous Farmer's™ horses escaped from the corral behind our house.
I parked my Mini across the drive way, hoping to block their passage to the street. Fat chance of course, my wee little car didn't even block half of it.
They snuck by it, in their horsey fashion, as they do and made it out onto the street.
I got on the phone to our local sherrif. By the time I was talking to the inspector, they'd been let in into another field by Mr Disastrous Farmer's™ girlfriend. Apparently she was woken out of her lethargy by the sound of hoofbeats 'cross the glade (and on the street).
When Dr Livingstone went with her to look at where exactly they'd escaped, the two horses were on a rampage again and had trashed the other fences too and were out again.
It finally dawned on her they are not capable of looking after the animals.
She kind of went all apologetic on us.

Oh, and two weeks on, their letter box is still on the ground.

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