Saturday, December 29, 2012

Evening Mirage

Mother stopped up oh so briefly last night. She lurched through the snowy mud into the run-in, and looked much larger and blacker than I'd ever seen. I snorted. Belle agreed. Mother was NOT right.

She managed to get close enough to kiss my nose, and I realized it was just Mother, not just some macabre mirage.

There was no cookie forthcoming though, so... maybe a mirage?


I do not understand humans' constant need to change their appearance. In the winter, Mother's outer coat is almost always brown, which is just fine as long as she keeps it on. Or sometimes blue, as seen here with the creepy hay sled from two winters back (remember when she hacked ALL of my mane and forelock off?!?).

There was an incident with a lighter colored coat that I still haven't recovered from.

So, really, why do the humans need so many outer coverings? I would think three would easily suffice. A super warm coat for the most chilly days (which are still balmy compared to North Dakota), a less warm but still warm coat for the in-between days, and a coat to cut the wind or drizzle on days that are windy or drizzly.

They should all be brown. Or blue. Those are comforting colors.

Oh, no, sometimes Mother appears nearly doubled in girth, and is a strange pinkish-purply color... is she sick? Bloated?

And somehow humans are never happy with their coverings. They either shiver and huddle and say they are not warm enough... why don't they just eat some hay? And give some more to us while they're at it, thank you very much. Or the humans decide that the coat is not needed, and wiggle and change color and leave the remnant that still smells like them in a lump somewhere.


As creepy as it is watching them shed coats, it's even creepier watching them shed other layers of coverings. They look like they are turning themselves inside out, and sometimes they make horrible grunts or squeaks.

That's just hoofin' creepy.

From what I've seen of Mother in the summertime, though, I guess we should be glad that there usually are bundled up in otherness.

The human form is such an oddity in the animal kingdom.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012


Another cookie day come and gone,
with nary a cookie for me.

Mother's love is for humans alone,
no cookies today for me.

Please, Mother, arrive
feed me one!
No, more! Like two or three!

Tis the Season to be Jolly...

and you've already made a fool of me.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Not Aunt Mary's fault

Mother and Auntie Erin came up today.

Much fuss was made over the wee donkeys and their ability to drag the creepy hay sled around.

I got a few cookies, but not nearly enough.

I'm sure if Aunt Mary had come up, much more fuss would have been made over me. With the holidays and predicted unpleasant weather, it is unlikely I'll get to see much of Mother, and thus cookies.

This is NOT Aunt Mary's fault. This is MOTHER's fault.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Important Life Lesson


So, I am patiently waiting my turn to go to My Happy Place, watching through the Magic Window as horse after horse after horse (who were those strange clothed horses that showed up with Aunt Nancy, anyway?) got to go there first, when at last...


The dentist gave me the good stuff, I was in happy la-la, he hardly had to do any of the brain shaking grinding stuff at all, and I was in the "recovery" stall.

Then I realized what humans meant by not being the first to fall asleep at the party...

Things were a bit hazy at first, and I reveled in My Happy Place, but as I awoke, I realized there was something amiss.

Really? This is fun for you?

And it's not just like they made a small alteration and Mother took a picture. Oh, no! Everyone was giggling. Cameras and cell phones emerged from every pocket.

They made comments about how I might end up on the Internet!


And it wasn't until an antler fell off about 20 minutes in that Mother finally removed my peculiar appendations.

I hope you're happy now, Aunt Mary.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

It's ALL Aunt Mary's fault

Aunt Mary was pressuring Mother, saying Bif's Wi-Fi was non-functional and that the world misses me.

Mother said just for that, she was limiting me further.


Actually, I saw quite a lot of Mother this weekend, and I'll be seeming her much of tomorrow, as the dentist is apparently coming.


Mother says she has something "Special" in mind for tomorrow. After things that have happened to Mr. Smothers, I admit to a little apprehension...

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Drear is Here

It has been rather dreary the last few days, with lots of rain. Fortunately for the aunts, it is easy to provide Belle and I with our hay by simply tossing it through the magic window. Aunt Marilyn often holds my breakfast for me through one of the magic windows. The magic window(s) allows Belle and I as well as the humans stay dry. Until I have to go get a drink, anyway.

Stock photo of me at the magic window, circa summer 2008. I am NOT that grey anymore

Mother is off ghost sitting. She claims the ghost likes her, I have no idea what she is talking about. I DO know she fussed over Jones and some other big fat horse named Chili (Chestnut Number 3), and really, this is just not acceptable. 

She says she'll be up this evening, I heard the aunties talking to her on the little flippy thing, but I'm not holding my breath. 

If she'd rather be off futzing around with something as silly looking as this~

well, I'm not sure I want her to come up here, anyway. 

I mean really, what a goober.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Dinner Interrupted

Well, way to go, Mother.

I'm sitting in the run-in this evening, eating my hay, minding my own business, and who should come clumping up in her muck boots, halter and rope in hand, but Mother.

Eating here, Mother.

Doesn't matter. She captures me, takes me out to the gate post and ties me, and proceeds to pick and powder my hooves.


She slaps some tummy goop from the syringe into my mouth (we got wormed on Sunday... Yes, it's so GOOD to see you all the time, Mother) and picked up the curry comb.

Really? Really?! There is hay in there! Being eaten by BELLE... and it's MINE!!

I shifted restlessly on the tie. Mother grumbled, untied me, and then tied it even shorter.


I shifted again, she grumbled loudly at me, and I settled in to accept my fate. Really, how am I expected to enjoy a grooming when MY HAY is being eaten. I'm going to get less now! I may have to just chase Belle out for the rest of the evening so I can get something to eat.

And to add insult to injury, instead of bringing me my cookies, Mother fussed over donkeys for ages in one of the stalls.

I know. I watched.

She did finally bring me my cookies ~ four Herballs.

I'm not sure I DO want Mother to visit all the time. Couldn't she come only when I'm not already busy eating?

Sunday, December 2, 2012


Mother came up yesterday. She came out to my run-in, put my halter and lead on, and walked me to the fence gate. She tied me to the large, solid post, and proceeded to curry me vigorously, pick my hooves, and put the powder stuff in my feet.

She found a large crunchiness on my face while currying. She apologized to me as she carefully examined my face, feeling bad that I had had this booboo and she had not been aware. Granted, under my dense face fur it was not visible, but she felt awful for the fact that she hadn't been up here to see it, that she hadn't been giving me a good grooming every day.

She free-lunged me for a bit in the multipurpose, and eyed me critically. She mentioned that she needed to call my chiropractor. I like him, so this was taken in stride.

She led me out to the lawn and let me graze while she pet me along my side and I could HEAR everything she was thinking. She felt bad because she was not up to see me very often. She felt BAD because she was a crappy owner. Just because she was tired all the time and work stressed her was no reason for her to ignore me. She WOULD start coming up more often, even if it was already dark, blah blah blah...

This line of thought was boring, and I focused on finding good grass in the leaf strewn lawn, content to hear her mind just whirl in the background as she pet me along my back and side thoughtfully.

She poked my side a bit more firmly and I jumped away... What the??

"You're getting awfully plump there, Bif."

Some things NEVER change.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Gobble 'til You Wobble

Apparently, once a year humans have a ritual where they eat as much food as they possibly can.

They INTENTIONALLY colic themselves. How bizarre.

Mother stopped up after her family's gathering to give us our evening meal last night.

She says it isn't good to feed us until we wobble...

But I think the donkeys may have reached and surpassed that point. There is talk of a fat farm or focus camp in their future...

The construction of such a facility is bound to prove entertaining!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012


To my surprise, I saw a lot of Mother this weekend. She fed us all of our meals. She beefed up fence-line security by trimming back weeds and brush, seeing as the wood fence is in many ways more of a visual barrier than anything else... when Bert is around, it is wise to have the zapping fence working.

Or donkeys. It is good for donkeys to get zapped.

Anyway, it was nice having her around, making my warm mush breakfast and giving me treats. She was muttering strangely as she cleaned, however. Something about toilets and rules...

At first I was puzzled. Belle and I have pretty set patterns, and our run in is typically standard to clean. We had followed the pattern. What was Mother going on about?

 Listening closer, I realized she was talking about her toilet. Whaaaaat? Apparently, her domicile has an eccentric... facility.

She was grumbling under her breath about the Rules to the Toilet placard she plans to post in her bathroom.Something about potential lawsuits?

Rules to the Toilet
1. Please read all instructions before attempting to utilize this device.
2. Remember, like animals and children, toilets can sense fear. Never let it know you are afraid.
3. No matter what happens, DO NOT PANIC. Worst case scenario, you can always turn off the water at the wall.
4. Locate the water shut off valve at the wall before attempting to flush, to insure prompt response in case of aforementioned worst case scenario.
5. When flushing the toilet, lightly and quickly flush the handle. Do not linger.
6. The burden placed upon the toilet is irrelevant. Do not grow complacent. You never know what tiny thing may set it off on its runaway course. You may be surprised by its bravery at other points.
7. Timing the drop of the toilet seat lid at the very end of the flush portion of the cycle seems to help ensure a smooth operation next flush.
8. The plunger is always within easy reach.
9. If in doubt, refer to rule number 3.
10. After bowl is cleared, remain standing anxiously while bowl refills... refills... refills... this may take a while.

Proceed to your right to utilize the sink

Rule of the Sink
1. Unless you are a speed washer, turn on the cold water as well as the hot, in close to equal amounts. The hot water achieves scalding temperature within 8 seconds of initiation.

I think Mother has lost it. What is she talking about??

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

New Exercise Program?

Mother came up and trimmed my hoovies tonight. The amount of huffing and puffing was ridiculous.

I need to start her on an exercise program.

Maybe I should become hard to catch...

Geez, Mother, how many pictures do you have of me with my tongue out?

Sunday, November 11, 2012

A 2x4

Mother gave me four cookies today. She spent less than two minutes with me.

I should have KNOWN she was going to be ignoring me, because there has been a single cookie in each of my grains this week. But no Mother for 8 days, and then when she does show up, she's there just 2 minutes.

What is the world coming to?

What? No, I am NOT crying.

I'm MAD!

Wednesday, November 7, 2012


A picture is worth a thousand words...
 I'm thinking just one word wraps it up: 


Ooh, ooh, maybe this one says it better?

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Red, White, and/or Donkey

Theoretically, humans are preoccupied today with something called "voting". At least, Mother gave that excuse (among others) for why she wasn't up here to visit me today. In order to better understand this phenomenon, I did some research.

Apparently, one can vote red
(nice tail)

Or one could vote donkey

Honestly, I don't think MY life will be affected either way... and I'm not old enough to vote for quite a few years yet.

Humans make everything so complicated!

Monday, November 5, 2012

Fall Preparations

The Aunties are soon going to be changing our summer accommodations into their winter counterparts.

But I like my view...

And the open and airy feel...

But my winter fuzz proves that cold weather and chilly winds are fast approaching. So up will go the solid wall, and tarps over the fly mesh. That's OK. I'll still get to go in and out whenever I want, and there will be plenty of hay, and Belle appreciates those wind blocks because she is a thin coated, soft little quarter horse.

Not a tough Nokota like me.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

DIY Organic Accupuncture

Mother has mentioned that Aunt Nancy is getting training in veterinary acupuncture. Little does she know that I already have experience in this area. If fact, I have been performing at-home, all organic acupunture for years.

Just this afternoon, in fact, when Mother let me out on the lawn, I took care of several problem areas

I'm sure Aunt Nancy will be almost as good, though.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

All's Wrong with the World

Last weekend, Mother and Aunt Carol disappeared with two of the donkeys. I took this as a good sign, hoping they would return and remove two more donkeys.

No. They took the donkeys to get religion, or something. They went to church, twice. Something about a petting zoo and little kids in costumes.

Needless to say, this means I got scarcely a pat and a cookie. Then Mother did not come up Sunday.
Or Monday.
Or Tuesday.
Or Wednesday.
See where I am going with this?

She hasn't been up here AT ALL this week. Her excuses of work and bad weather and being under the weather are not sufficient.
Her pleas that she still doesn't have internet so I can at least have some contact with someone somewhere are not sufficient.

Something serious must be done.

I just don't know what. I'm only a horse, after all. Besides being loveable, what method can I possibly use to influence her?

Friday, October 26, 2012

Sleeping Arrangements

Apparently, Mother has been spending a lot more time with her cat, Mr. Smothers, than with me. Not only waking hours, but he gets to snuggle all night long if he wishes. I bet she even gives him cookies then, too...

Why would she want to wake up each morning to a psychotic little carnivore that tries to cut off her oxygen when she could wake up to a face like this every day?

Of course, some days I do wake up on the wrong side of the bed...

I'm not perfect.

But neither are you, Mother. Neither are you.

And I'm certainly better than a cat.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

The (Not So) Great Escape

Fugitive number one:

Fugitive numbers two, three and four:

Good News: The donkeys ran away today!

Bad News: Aunt Marilyn and Mother brought them back.

During the course of barn hygiene, donkeys slithered through the open gate into the back pasture. A section of fence had been knocked down, and before Aunt Marilyn knew it, there were miniature donkeys on the loose in a respectable neighborhood.

Mother rushed from wherever it is she goes all day, and met up with Aunt Marilyn and the donkeys cavorting in random yards well down the hill and far from home. While I and part of the Red Mare Herd grazed in the now open back pasture, Mother came into sight tugging one of the jennets behind her. She hustled the donkey to the Small and went to the barn for another wee halter. Julia's pathetic donkey cries rang out, and Mother encouraged her to tell those other donkeys to hurry home.

By the time Mother traipsed again through the back field, the remaining fugitives were in the closest neighbor's yard, and relatively easily secured.

I think they enjoyed their party... they are out there right now debating another attempt...

We've got everything here we would want... why leave?

I not only question the intelligence of the donkeys in this escapade, but the humans as well.

Why go out of your way to bring this back?


Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The Very Bad Cookie

Mother was up earlier this week, whence she pet me and said hello, and then went and played with a donkey for forever. Apparently, they were sniff-mauled by a large dog on their sojourns, but that isn't pertinent to MY story.

Upon their return, Mother finally felt properly contrite of her neglect of me, and said she would bring me cookies. She went to the barn porch, and returned proffering something that smelled reminiscent of peppermint.

I must say, Mother has horrible taste. The "treat" she gave me was revolting.

I sniffed... pepperminty. I accepted, took two slow crunches, then stopped. I looked at her with wounded eyes. I mean, this was gross. She offered me a second. Uh, no way. Un-uhn. Mother handed one to the wee donkey, who true to form consumed it with no hesitation, although it took her a while. They were not only gross treats, but very solid.

Mother offered the last of the three to Callie, who ate it because her treat offerings are limited. Mother came back to me with a small handful of my beloved Herballs. I begrudgingly accepted them. Mother suspected I still had the remnants of the first treat lurking in my mouth.

I'll never tell.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Myriad Explanations of an Unacceptable Nature

I have been woefully silent of late. Mother has denied me of my internet access because SHE no longer has internet access at home.

Apparently she no longer has a home? Or she lives somewhere else? Something like that.

She still comes and visits me and the donkeys, so whatever. I mean, I get cookies. Although yesterday she spent 12.5 seconds giving me treats and 2.5 HOURS playing with donkeys.


The weather has been lovely, we've started going out in the back pasture again... it had been closed off for a while after the fall rains had come, to let the grass grow again. Mother NEEDS to bring the camera up. She NEEDS to give me more internet time.

Maybe you could put a burr in her ear? I know that would bother me!

Friday, October 12, 2012

Odd Beyond Odd

I don't really have anything to explain this. I just like it. Trust me, I've been tempted to do just this many, many times.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Sunday morning, far far away

Roscoe: We have movement at the house. Repeat, movement at the house.

Chestnut Number 6: Shut up.

Zeus: What's she doing now? What's she doing now?

Roscoe: Movement at middle barn. Repeat, movement at middle barn.

Chestnuts Number 2,4,5 and 6: Shut up!

Chestnut Number 1: It doesn't count until she opens the door. She probably won't even feed us. sob...

Max: Hey, she's filling the grain cart. SHE'S FILLING THE GRAIN CART!! 

Dark Bay: What? What's going on, I can't see!!

Zeus: Yeah, we can't see, what's she doing now?

Roscoe: Movement to big barn. Repeat, movement to big barn. Grain cart in sight. Grain cart in tow.

door rolls open... cue the nicker chorus

cue splashes

Max: Me me me me me me. YES!

Chestnut Number 1: Ok, we are getting fed today. But it means nothing about the future. Please step away from my feeder. I won't eat until you do.

Roscoe: Hurry, me, hurry, me, hurry, me...

Chestnut Number 2: Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. YES!

Trouble: Ha, me next. YES!

Chestnut Number 3: FEED ME!! DAMN IT!! bang

Roscoe: YES!

Appaloosa: Don't forget me. Don't forget me.

Chestnut Number 3: Now! YES! bang

Apaloosa: Don't forget me!..gup...oops. Thank you.

Jones: Thank you. (Slug! Stupid slow humans...)

Chestnut Number 8: What is taking so long?? What is taking so long?

George: YEAH, HURRY!!

Chestnut Number 4: Glum num, swallow Haven't you all noticed that our food has those other pellets? And our joints feel better? She has to add a joint supplement, and Max get's extra stuff, and... anyway, it just takes longer.

Chestnut number 6: One thing has nothing to do with the other! Joint supplement?? Freak. Hurry, stupid human. HURRY! thanks.
Zeus: Take your time. I'd like the sweet feed, please. Just a bit of pellets. Well, that's fine, whatever. Are we getting hay before we go out? Aren't all those Chestnuts insane? I mean, I'm chestnut and I don't act like that. Oh, yes, some of the powder, thanks. Thank you, excuse me while I eat this before... well, you know, anyway, thanks.
Dark Bay: Feed me before I bang the door off. I'll do it! Don't think I won't!

Chestnut Number 8: What is taking so long?!?!

Chestnut Number 7: This is disgusting! SPPPPTT!! sling sling sling

George: Me now, me now? Me? Oh, thank you tiny human.

Human: sigh

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Just add it to the list...

Mother has been by a few times this week, and wisely spent time grooming me and letting me on the lawn and not just wandered off  to do donkey things.

Today, she said she had some other equid to check out.

It's always something...

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Evolution: Part 2

Evolution Part 1

I am put through the catch pen, held close in the stocks, and I still, but hold tight to my panic. Ears and eyes are my only movements.

The young hay man holds up a strange container that smells of good corn. I put my head in and grab and chew watchfully.

He holds the bucket to me again, and I ignore the thin rope, after a suspicious snort. As my teeth grind the food, the thin rope snakes up onto my head, is fastened around my ears, and I snort and fling and tense.

I am wild.

He holds up the corn, and pets my neck.

He sets me free to the round corral, and I run, run, I am wild, and the rope follows me everywhere. I feel it slithering along my legs and run faster, and kick.

I hold my head to the side, and the rope stops slapping my legs. I stop, and the rope stops following me. I shake, I snort.

I am wild.

The man enters with the container of corn, and I step, and the rope tightens behind my ears.

I stop dead. The rope eases.

I learn to give to the rope. I learn to follow the man. Always give to the pressure.

Always give. Follow to strange places, accept the touches.

Stand as he picks at my hurt, at my face.

Always give.

(But I am wild.)

Ride with my brethren in the strange clattering box, to sharp, strange smells and sharp, strange feelings.


Into the box again, and again for endless hours roiling through strangeness and loud and rumbling engines and fear. Safe with my brethren.

I am still wild.

Monday, September 17, 2012

The End of the World

The end of the world came today.

Mother, after ignoring us for days on end (Ghost sitting again) came up to the barn to do my overdue  hooves.

She had this.

It's not pink!!!!!!!!

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Wolf Free Zone

Mother waddled up today and had me move around a bit. I must say, the softer ground is much appreciated. I am so much more comfortable than I've been most of the summer!

See? There's nothing wrong with me! Mother's crazy.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Chunky Bob

My home is a fascinating ecosystem. There are, of course, the four horses and the four donkeys.

There are the three yard dogs, who stay in the house and share the yard sometimes while I graze, but don't come up to the barn (except Tucker, when he is "bad", according to Mother). The one female used to bark at me but has learned that I DO NOT LIKE barking, so I like all the yard dogs very well now.

The neighbors' hellhounds sometimes pass through. They are not on my list of favorites but I tolerate them well enough, since they don't usually bark.

Although they did steal the grazing muzzle for a time, that was nice of them. Perhaps I should start thinking more highly of them...

There are several house cats, two of which venture up to the barn. I'll talk more about them some other time, because the barn kitties are what intrigue me most today.

Mother says through the years there have been many barn cats, most living lives well into their teens (except for the unlucky family that had sudden cardiac deaths almost uniformly before age three). They have been lucky to have such longevity in barn cats, as in most places an outside cat will have a third of the life expectancy of an indoor cat. There have been less than 4 % that have perished that could have lived longer lives as a housecat. The mountain hideaway is a unique haven for cats.

The most amazing variety can historically be found amongst the barn cats. There are four current "regulars", the least barn cats they've ever managed to have. Actually, those four sport very little variety. They are all grey tabbies: two with short hair and two long fluffies. They are all well aged, as there fortunately aren't many hazards at our mountain hideaway. It is nearly a half mile to the fast road, and the hellhounds really aren't so evil as to devour cats.

The two short hairs are strictly barn cats. Aunt B is my favorite of all the kitties. She is petite (so she eats less, saving resources for the rest of us), she likes the humans but doesn't want to be pet (saving valuable human interaction time for the rest of us), and she has extraordinarily pretty eyes to offset her otherwise bland exterior.

She has also mastered managing humans. She convinces them it is time to open the cans of their food just by a glance and a meow, and she has them trained to consider it a rare treat for the humans when she brushes up on their legs.

She has a slightly younger nephew/cousin/son (? don't ask, there was the taking on of a few stray kitties 13 or 14 years ago that "critical" time came earlier than expected) named Rosie Greer. He is a human attention hog, always wanting to be pet and cuddled and taking away MY time. Mother, fortunately, is rather immune to his charms, but all the aunties fall for him at times.
He used to be one of fat donkey's boon companions, but he likes all the donkeys and now spreads his attentions around even more. He even likes the little ones who try to engage him in chasing games, which he ignores. He likes to rub on donkey heads and legs if there are no humans to rub on and be cuddled by.

The two long haired fluffies are virtually indistinguishable to me. The male is starting to suffer some old age infirmities and spends much more time down at the house. The female wandered off for some time and there was much concern, but she has returned and seems content to stick closer to home. Both fluffies are older than Rosie and Aunt B.

How do they do so well with the outside cats? The kitties have lots of hands-on contact with the humans, thrice daily feedings of good food, and we have fewer sources of peril than most people can provide to barn cats. All (except for the long-ago illusive Grey Ghostie) have been taken to the vet and had medical things go in and "unnecessary" body parts come out.

And it is this that brings us to Chunky Bob. Chunky Bob is the newest denizen, having been absorbed into the fold by his own shear tenacity. He started showing up just after feeding time, slinking in to grab any remainders of cat food. He has over the months come to hang out on the porch and partake with the others during feedings.

He has become a resident.

The task of capturing Chunky Bob to have him seen by a vet has been a topic of discussion. A live trap doesn't work very well when you will probably capture one of the four regular barn cats. Sequestering the barn cats to properly invite Chunky Bob into a live trap requires more time and coordination than the humans have been able to muster. The thought of transferring him to a container that would deter the transport vehicle from perhaps taking a direct hit of intact male spraying is fraught with its own perils. But it must be done.

Soon, Chunky Bob, soon.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Rain Fall

The seasons are changing. Although it is still a touch humid and hot out, the rains have started that signal the coming of the cold season. My fur is thickening. The leaves are turning colors, falling, as the trees prepare for winter.

I for one am glad of all this rain, as it makes the ground softer. Sure, it is a bit slippery in spots from the mud, but it is better than the concrete hard dry ground we've had all summer long. I find the softer ground easier to get around on.

Oh, and maybe the grass will grow again this fall, now that it has some moisture!!

My hair certainly has, since Mother took this autumn-y photo
 ( September 6th, 2010)

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The Black Hole

So, Mother has returned, apparently none the worse for her solitary ventures.

I know what you're thinking: Wow, Boyfriend, now she has time to stand with you, swishing away any bothersome flies, and pet you, and point the fan on you when it is hot, and feed you cookies, and let you eat on the lawn until you'd rather be back in with Belle, in or out all day long as you wish. (I would not want Belle to be able to just come and go, or Bert and Callie for that matter, because they would just eat all the grass, which is MINE.) I know that's what I pictured.

Well, we were wrong. Mother returned, and after some petting of me, she spent much time worrying over one of the female donkeys, who apparently was a bit sore on one leg. Aunt Nancy came out, too, and while I was pet, it turns out the wee donkey has a black hole in her foot, or something. They had to dig out some unhappiness, and Mother has been spending time with the little donkey on the porch, with its hoof in a strange silver plastic bag that squishes when she walks on it.

How do I know all this? Well, Mother let me on the lawn, and since this is the donkey that is most terrified of me, I decided to barge up on the porch and bang into the box where my brushes are kept.

It was awesome, the poor little donkey nearly left her skin behind her, dragging Auntie Erin in her wake.


She mustn't be too afraid of me, though, as she nearly touched my nose later, trying to get the cookie Mother was proffering to me.

Silly donkey. You may currently be a time suck, but I am Mother's favorite black hole.

** The wee donk in question

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Zippity Do Da

I have reports that Mother has survived "ziplining".

When I heard what that was, I was intrigued and sickened. I mean, can you imagine?!?

Yeh, I don't care how safe Mother says it is:

Monday, August 20, 2012

Alone, Forever

Mother has a tendency to wander off on her own. A rancher would call her a "quit the bunch" if she were a cow.  Horses, like myself, would call her a fool.

There is safety in the herd.

Years back, Mother even wandered to another continent on her own. I'm surprised she's still alive. I thought with my arrival that she'd mostly gotten over this wanderlust.


She has wandered away to far off mountains. She still can't avoid the longears...

Oh, yeah, she stopped. And spent money she should have spent on ME!!

She's been down there a day, and has wondered through a butterfly forest (creepy), climbed a big tower (fool!), been through an enormously deep cave (bigger fool!) and rode a half blind paint horse along steep trails.

And apparently she's been eating her own weight in all sorts of food. I'm sure glad I am not her riding horse!

Today she claims to be "taking it easy", but says she is going "ziplining" and "jet skiing" later in the week.


I'll be alone forever at the rate she's going.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Now what?

Mother is going to abandon me for a week again... something about the Gatlinburg of the Ozarks?

For crying out loud!!!

Marilyn's Mountain Hideaway looks a little like the Smokies... couldn't she spend her vacation here with me?

Don't you think?

Sunday, August 12, 2012

The Throuble with Thisthles

Mother was making fun of me, because I was having trouble consuming a wayward plant. Sadly, Mother was too inept to get the editing thingy to cut this down, so you will be bored by an overlong video, as well as potential to hear a bad word or two.


Saturday, August 11, 2012


I have been enjoying the cool weather the last couple of days. Mother was excited to see me bucking and rearing in place, running a bit, and trotting like a fool.

The cooler weather has come after a stretch of storms that we had... the soft ground is much more comfortable for me.

Don't tell any wolves, but my leg continues to make me move a titch slower; it's much better when the earth doesn't feel like concrete all the time.

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