The Porpentine Rampage!

Porpentine Fascination Continues Unabated, and Sunday afternoon's excursion was a blissful delight. I found myself in Newmarket, chatting away with patrons from around the world (met even more Russian, Bulgarian, Polish and Lithuanian guests this weekend), when the Master of the Porpentine brought the crotchety critter over from the Petting Farm and Let It Run Around On Its Own, right on the grass, amidst the excited patrons! It made a beeline for one woman's leg and began immediately to nom her, which terrified me utterly, but the woman insisted that it was fine, and that her cat bites her with more ferocity, and she just sat there and let the obstreperous spiny beast chomp away at her ankles and calves, much to the horror of her very young daughter, who squealed in fear and gathered her legs up onto the bench, out of reach of the Porpentine's mighty incisors. He then turned his ire on the bench itself, chewing at it with ferocity, for he is compelled constantly to chew and chew. A large crowd amassed -- some thirty people -- all standing about wondering at the voracious chew-need of the Porpentine. And I just plopped on the ground, perfectly happy, watching people enjoy the Porpentine, and delighting in its grumpy antics myself. The Master of the Porpentine, arms clad in the Excalibur Leather bracers we'd gifted him, seized the Porpentine then and flipped him on his back on the ground, and the Porpentine APPEARED TO LIKE BEING INVERTED! He displayed his belly, seemingly happily and calmly, which surprised everyone, and the Master of the Porpentine said, "Quick, pet him now before he flips back over," and we fairly dove at the thing, all petting his soft underbelly fur and admiring his prosh giant back-feet paw pads. Eventually he righted himself, and, just as surprisingly, whirled about rapidly about ten times, just spinning like a pincushion possessed, and it made no sense at all, which is exactly what one wants on a cool bright Sunday afternoon. Then it went back to finding things to chomp, streaking toward a young lad in knee-high brown leather boots, wrapping his little arms around the calf and nomming him ferociously! The Porpentine was completely strange and delightful out in the open, and I wish Lord Leycester and Egads had been there to witness his surly rampage amongst patrons' legs.