I'm not talking about the literary kind this time, as is my wont, but a real honest to goodness monster.
That's him on the left and my pathetic attempt to paint him a couple of years ago.
After commuting his sentence a few weeks ago Louis the Limp has become a new man/horse. My daughter has spoilt the wretched nag so much after not sending him to pony heaven that he's worse than he ever was.
No more of that horse food muck for him. He won't eat it.
'Give me a carrot...peel it first!
If it was up to me I'd leave his (very expensive) horse food in his crib until he ate it but my daughter won't.
"Leave him alone, daddy. He's old and he's my precious." And all the time the worm is looking over her shoulder and winking at me.
"You're mine, pal," I told him yesterday after my daughter had disappeared to hand-pick him some fresh golden hay. He just laughed in my face and to display his abject terror turned around and released enough toxic flatulence to bring down a passing sparrow.