Wednesday, September 28, 2011


How life should be, as demonstrated by Belle and I this weekend, visiting the sheepless sheep pasture:

During the week, however, with Mother gone away "educating" herself, Belle and I have been trapped in the Small, instead of visiting the sheep fields.

So when we do go, I feel a bit off kilter at times... out of balance. *

Perhaps Mother should have taken physics first!

P.S. My Hair Club for Men is great! Look how far my hair has come since Mother hacked it all off in mid-August just last summer. Some horses struggle a whole lifetime to have this much hair. I am blessed.

*Or perhaps Mother should stop angling the camera to make me look ridiculous.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Mother Laughed

With Mother off doing whatever it is she does at "class", I have been left without much to do.

I found this, though, and was very entertained:
Mr. Chips Cracks a Secret of The Universe and Jane Manages to Stay out of Prison

Just think if we could get fat donkey to do it. I could start calling him Pele.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Terror-ble Treats

The other evening, after a pretty good day ~ nice brushing, good dinner, etc. etc., I was out munching on my hay, when Mother came out to give me my goodbye kiss and treats.

Usually she carries the Herballs in her hand, or in a pocket, I suppose, and a few times even in a bag, but this time she was holding a small plastic container. OK.

She kissed me on my schnozzle, and as she straightened up and offered her hand holding the treats, I heard it:

Tat tat TAt TATAT Tat.


I leapt backwards a horse's length, spun around, leapt one more stride then spun around again to spot the rattler and to check on Mother's welfare. After all, I did just kind of leave her there when I heard the shake of his scales.

If I didn't know better, it almost sounded like it was coming from Mother.

Mother looked pained. Oh, no! Was she bitten? Then I realized it was because she was trying not to laugh. Not the reaction I was expecting...

She advanced toward me, right over the place where the snake obviously had to be, and I heard the subtle rustle of the rattle again as Mother moved. She offered me a few treats. I was concerned, and ready to run if the snake made it's location known, but I ate the Herballs.

Mother then proceeded to Belle, where I swear I heard the rattler again (Is it following Mother?), but Belle seemed unruffled as she accepted a few treats. Mother made her way back to me. I regarded the whole situation with suspicion, but finished up the treats she offered.

Mother reassured me it was OK, she only had treats, that the sound was coming from the Herballs in the plastic container moving about. Um, no. Are you trying to train me that rattlesnakes have treats?!?
I don't think so.

It was a very stressful experience.

Mother laughs that "You can take the horse out of the feral, but you can't take the feral out of the horse". Um, I believe you are using an adjective as a noun, and anyway, that's not being feral, that's just good common sense to stay away from rattlesnakes. I have no idea what she is talking about. And her saying that there are no rattlesnakes where we live is just plain foolhardy.

You can never be too cautious.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Further Details: Always Check Your Policy

An update ~ Mother took a picture of my face oozy spot (which isn't actually oozy) and my belly bug welt oozy spot, which is.

The bad news first. My ooey gooey bug welt. The bug bite is to the right, pinkish looking, the oozy spot is to the left. Pre picking:

Post picking:

My face... Mother dug on it the other day, and it has been Swatted several times:

She said perhaps there is a certain bug at this time a year that causes a very localized allergic reaction, or perhaps I just am dying of some bizarre seasonal cancer.

You are not a doctor, Mother. Your diagnostic skills are a little frightening, honestly. And your stall side manner leaves something to be desired...

I am doing my part. I am down to 930 lbs, so Operation Semi-Starvation should end, please. I mean look, I am clearly wasting away here:

Mother says my HMO doesn't cover non-life-threatening dermatological issues. She says it doesn't cover much of anything except dental, preventative medicine, minor plastic surgery, and hospice. And that less weight is better for my bad leg. Who picked this HMO, anyway?

I think Mother is a terrible insurance company! Maybe I should look into other options. Anyone recommend a good carrier? I have a lot of pre-existing conditions.

Rotten to the Core

I'm disintegrating. I went through this last year around this time:

See the weird oozy abrasiony thing on my otherwise gorgeous cheek? This and several others in varying areas sprouted up on me last year at this time of year.

This year I have some, although none are in the same places as last year... one lower on my face, a few on my neck and shoulder on each side, but worst, one on the big bug welt on my belly. So I have this big welt with two oozy unhappy parts to it. Yulck.

None of this year's spots look as bad as the one in the picture, except maybe the one on my belly welt. Mother picks at these things and puts SWAT on them. She sighs. She says if they went away last year on their own, they'll go away this year, too.

Apparently, I'm on some sort of limited HMO. How does one get good health care these days?

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Price of Education

Mother told me today that she will be going to school again, soon, four nights a week.


Priorities. Snort! This woman clearly has none.


Oh, no, Mother, don't worry yourself about lil' ol' me. I'll just hang out and eat. I don't need you.

I don't need anyone.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Why am I here?

Mother met me like this:

What form I had was worms and hair, since my tooth bothered me so much I only ate because I had to. And I actually weighed more than when Mother met me in August, because she sent dewormers for a hundred horses. There were a lot of us in the bachelor band.

 See the ribs? yeah.

I was turned into a Ohio friendly package and sent to Mother a couple of days before Christmas. As it was about 7 weeks later, I was even thinner.

It took only getting my infected tooth out and some good food, deworming, and 3 months to look like this:

And me this summer, three and a half years later:

Of course, I did lose some color. There are always tradeoffs.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Love: Some Definitions

Love is:

Letting Mother kiss me on the schnozzle even after she has just given me dewormer.

Accepting treats even though Mother has just given me dewormer (BLECH!!).

Never letting Mother know that sticking noxious items in my mouth troubles me. I maintain my placid demeanor. She means well.

Following all directions on the lunge line perfectly even though it is about 40 degrees colder than it was 3 days ago and the wind is up and I feel HIIIIIIIGH. I didn't even pull.

Not sighing (overly loudly) when she finishes up my grooming by deciding to comb through my mane instead of putting me in the feeding stall. Comb? More like tug tug tug. She means well.

Leaving my hay because she was petting me and walked away. Pet me longer, please Mother? And this was good orchard with alfalfa. 

Fortunately, Mother paused and pet me for several more minutes. So pleasant on this autumn-y night. We just stood there in the darkness, petter and pettee.

Put like that, it doesn't sound right at all...

But it is perfect. It is Love.

Thursday, September 1, 2011


 Jeanie, age 32, last year in April 2010

My favored Red Mare, Jeanie, passed away today.

She was bred by a good cow-horse family, bought by the aunts before she was yet two years old, and lived with them over 31 years. Her breeders' son was her farrier for the first twenty plus years of her life. When they decided to breed her, she had two lovely foals by his stallion.

She carried her young owner in the show ring, on the trail, and through life. She willingly shouldered her owner's joys, tears, fears through high school, college, first dates, first jobs. 
She carried many small children with grace and exceptional care. 
She helped a friend with disabilities know the comfort and joy that it is to be found astride a good horse.

Grazing in the garden paddock, April 2010

 She had a choke that was unable to resolve. It was the first and only choke she had. There was no food in the obstruction; the doctors that treated her think it was a tumor, or a tumor combined with a dislodged and swallowed tooth. She was never suffering, just a bit discomforted, but the answer when the obstruction could not be cleared was obvious, although not easy.

At 33, she still had a shine to her coat, mischief in her eye, and sprightliness in her trot and even an occasional canter.

She has known nothing but love. 

 What a good mare. 

 What a good life.

Goodbye, friend.
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