Rachel Wise: My goat's the one in the dress

Winter hit with a wallop this week and while people raced inside, put on slippers and stoked up the fire, I had to rush in the opposite direction.

My dogs and cats take over the lounge and hog the warm spot under the heat pump, but my husband draws the line at letting the horses, ponies, goats, sheep and chickens come in out of the cold. Even when it's threatening to snow. And it was.

So it was out into the impending blizzard for me, and into the shed where the horse-covers hang.

The two biggest paddock ornaments, Horse B and Horse C, were already wearing one cover each. But now they needed their extra layer on, and their neck-covers that strap to the extra layer and go right up to their ears. And the vests for underneath to stop all this extra weight from rubbing the hair on their delicate shoulders.

I also have duvet-style "doonas" that go underneath the other two covers and polar fleece neck-rugs to go under the warm neck-rugs, sort of like a scarf ... for a horse.

You'd think the horses would be grateful for all this, but inevitably when they see me staggering down the paddock in the rain and sleet and wind, laden with rugs and polar fleece, they take one look and run like hell.

It could be they don't recognise me under all the layers. It could also be that they are just plain ornery.

They have no sympathy for the fact this stuff weighs a tonne. Nor that I am too short to hold it all off the ground and therefore keep tripping over it. Nor indeed that I battled huge shed-spiders to go and fetch these immense horse-garments. The spiders, at least, appreciate the warm rugs and are reluctant to give them up.

Nope. The evil equines make me follow them about making silly "it's okay it's just me and your covers" noises at them.

They keep looping the paddock until I have got to the "It's okay (damn you) it's just me (your bloody owner who does everything for you) with your (blasted) covers".

Then they stop and kindly allow me to lift, heave and shove several layers of rugs on board.

With the big horses rugged, I start to get feelings of guilt about the ponies, so it's back to the spidery shed and out with pony-sized rugs and the battle resumes.

Sunny the Welsh pony doesn't object too much. Philip the mini squirms like a toddler having a nappy change and because he's so short I end up on my knees in the mud peering under him looking for the cover-straps. Oliver - also a mini - just runs away until I get the message that he prefers to be wet, muddy and gross. Fine.

By now the rain has run down the neck of my coat and met the mud that's on its way up. Reaching up to put horse-garments on Horse C has allowed rain to run down my arms and pool round my waist. Bending down to deal with Philip has made my woolly hat drop off into a puddle.

I check the chooks - they are in their coop and dry. I check the sheep, they are wearing wool a foot thick and don't understand what the fuss is about.

I check the goats and ... while Goat Junior is in the purpose-built luxury goat shelter (okay it's the old chook-house but they like to feel special), The Old Goat is standing in the rain looking stupid.

Goats have impractical, hairy coats with little undercoat. They don't store much fat on their bodies. They are not built to be out in the rain. The Old Goat hasn't read the literature and she's getting wet.

I have no covers for goats. I try putting Oliver's unwanted rug on her ... it pools around her hooves and drags behind her like a train.

A third trip to the spidery shed and I locate an unused horse neck-rug. Add baling twine, a few extra holes and - voila! It hangs to the ground, it even keeps her knees warm. She looks daft but dry.

Yes, if you drive past and are wondering. That's my goat - the one in the dress.