Sunday, July 24, 2011

The Infamous Coat Story: As told by Mother

Boyfriend has been too ashamed to let this story out, but it is too funny not to share, and such an example of Bif-ness.

I am cleaning the run-in, with Bif and Belle in attendance.  Growing warm from my labors, I remove my winter coat and set it, folded, over one of the arms of the wheelbarrow. Belle is well known for investigating/molesting anything we may leave out, but Boyfriend is not a fusser. He seldom mucks about with anything we might leave out, so I am surprised when he goes over to sniff and investigate.

I forgot that there had been Herballs in the pocket the evening before. While the Herballs were gone, perhaps their scent lingered.

Bif grasps the coat in his teeth and starts to back up. I give the infamous ANN-ANNT sound to indicate, NO! Bif, now alarmed that he is being followed by the coat and in trouble with Mother, attempts to flee the area, swinging away into Belle. Coat still attached.

Belle squeals, turns, and flees the run-in. Bif scoots to the far corner, frantic that the coat continues to follow him. He starts cutting back and forth, spinning, attempting to evade the assailant that constantly dances in front of him and occasionally slaps his legs and chest. This goes on for some time. At least two minutes. Perhaps longer. In about a 16 by 12 foot section of the run-in.

I'm ashamed now to admit I stood, cartoonish, hand extended and laughing Ha-HA. Torn by my desire to go and offer assistance, knowing I would more likely be trampled in the endeavor; by my shame at laughing at my poor, bewildered beast; and by outright humor at the fact that my horse is too stupid to just open his mouth and let the coat go.

I'm also a bit disturbed that all of this is taking place over the yet-to be cleaned portion, so not only is Bif tearing up the bedding and stirring in muck, my coat is not being rendered any cleaner in the process.

To make it worse (funnier), Belle periodically charges in, squealing and striking with her front legs at Bif's attacker, then turns and flees again. Bif tries to follow her out, but the coat stops him every time. That, and he is leery enough of passing through the canvas and or shade cloth on an ordinary day... now, he is convinced it is a solid wall.

Finally, as I sidle up to assist, the crazed mare charges in yet again, squeals, strikes, spins, and Bif follows her out while the windbreak canvas is still out of the way,  dropping my coat just outside of the run-in.

I catch my breath, blot my tears of laughter, and decide to catch him up, and check his mouth thoroughly to see if he had perhaps grabbed it near the elastic cords and one had hooked on his teeth... Marilyn came up while I was attempting to catch him. I could only sputter and make odd noises. I tried to reassure her that everything was fine, but I couldn't really breath. Bif was of course petrified this whole time.

There were no abrasions in his mouth.
There were no rips to the coat.
There was one hell of a funny story.

I only wish I had been able to catch the whole thing on video. We would definitely have won $100,000.


  1. !!!!!!

    BIF you made my Sunday, and rock on Ma ! :)

  2. I really rather wish Mother had not told that story! People will question my intelligence...

  3. Bif, it's OK. It took Fenway ten minutes to walk past a pile of horse poop today. (An Eeeeevil pile of horse poop.)



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