Just a horse...

I am just a horse. My needs are simple and few. A good brushing, constant access to forage, easily located water source. Hoof care, I suppose, if there's not enough varied terrain that I can just do it myself.

Not difficult. I will even go so far as to say cookies are, in fact, a desire, not a need.

It pains me to say that.

Mother fed our mid-day hay today, I got my grain, and there's clean water in the trough. They always check three times a day, lest a hole develop (hasn't happened yet, but you can't be too careful) or another unfortunate squirrel/bird/racoon incident occurs. I even got cookies. But...

I did not get brushed! I'm not sure if you're aware, but Mother has been a little lax in the "coming to visit me" (ME!) section of her job description, but I've grown accustomed, I suppose. I never complain. Usually though, when she does come up, I get brushed and fussed on a bit. Today she fed all of us, gave me my cookies, and left. Uhhh... aren't you Forgetting Something? And it was nicely above freezing; a good thorough brushing that messes up my piloerection would not have been frowned upon the way it is when it is colder out. When it's cold, I take care of it all just fine; don't ruin things!

Anyway, apparently Mother was working on something she called taxes. I'm not sure what they are, but she seems both happy and sad about them.

I appreciate my cookies, but sometimes I wish Mother had been born a horse like me... then she would know, as I do:

Life is simple

 Now, who needs a hug?*

*Shameless re-use of this photo because it is a masterpiece of cuteness and adorability.

One Mother Open Sled

There are some things a horse does not wish to see in his pasture. 

This was one of those things.

Mother and Aunt Margie came by today, and Mother was followed by an absolutely terrifying bizarre object, laden with... stuff. I was exceedingly wary, yet Mother did not seem to notice this horrible thing was following her. Belle actually walked up and sniffed it, but I was having none of it. I stayed well away at all times.

Mother and the thing went into the barnyard area.

Before long, she re-emerged, and she and the thing came into the small pasture again. Belle eagerly met her. I hung back until I realized... hay?

The thing is apparently a hay transporter? At first I let Belle get a mouthful and share it with me; eventually, I braved closer and ate from the garish hay transporter myself.

I realized, too, that it wasn't just eeriely following Mother, but was being pulled by her via the attached rope.

Ummm.... still creepy.

Mother took me in the barn hall to tack me up with my ground driving gear. We stared puttering about the multipurpose:

After awhile, Aunt Margie came out pulling the garish hay transporter, which she and Mother kept calling a sled. At first I was a bit creeped, but as it seemed to stick close to Aunt Margie and not prone to wandering off on its own, I decided it was probably ok. I'll just keep an eye on it.

Belle says it's not that scary, and she was hoping more hay would be forthcoming. That's because she got to stand and sleep in the sun while the thing followed me around. The worst part was, Mother and Aunt Margie kept laughing at me. Not nice.

Why would Mother want to follow me around with that thing, anyway?

owie owie ow

Mother had to remove some burrs from my ear the other day. She didn't even ask this time where I got them. She had to use the slimy mane and tail combing stuff on her fingers, and pull the hairs off the burrs... she was gentle, but ow ow ow ow.

It did feel better once they were off. They were so tight from my trying to rub them off myself, I was getting a headache. I of course stood mostly perfectly... one small tear rolling down my cheek. Speck of dust, I suppose.

Just a walk in the park...

 Mother found a beautiful online representation of our ride...

Hippo in the Park ~ Leslie Sealey

She found out about the artist on the Riding Aside blog, and then went to HippoHoopla! for more giggles...

I am not sure if I am amused or offended. The George Washington is quite august, and the Spanish Riding Hippo is quite athletic, but still... hmmm.

I wonder what hippo cookies taste like.

Careful what you wish for...

It worked, it worked, it WORKED!! Mother came up to visit me today!

I saw her come up as I was munching my late midday hay out in the multipurpose area with my orangey red mare nearby. Mother went into the barn, and came back out with my halter and lead... and a lunge line and whip. She set the latter two offensive items against the fence, then came in the gate to get me. I did something I very rarely do. Uhhh... I left.

I skittered away before she got near and ran into the run in shed. I mean, that's why they call it a run in shed, right? I always forget that when I do that, though, I am effectively cornered, and Mother may secure me. sigh

Mother lunged me for a few minutes, then took me in the barn and used very dull clippers to hack a bridle path for me in the sproutage (she claims she keeps meaning to change the blades, but just doesn't have time. Hmmpfh.). She then put my bridle on me, led me out to the scary black box thingy, and proceeded to clamber aboard my bare back.

We went nowhere. We walked into the gardening paddock a couple times and around the barnyard. She seemed happy enough, so I humored her. The poor pathetic creature is sometimes so easily amused.

She gave me a good brushing, and dinner (YUM!!) and some Herballs a bit later when she finally left for the night. So it was quite nice, except for that working bit.

What we have to put up with for a few creature comforts...

Succulent Selections

My good buddy Fenway asked about the treats (besides the infinitely wondrous, superb, perfect Mrs. Pastures cookies) Mother feeds me. His human is also apparently overly concerned by outward appearances. I mean, he mentions celery, as if that is an equine foodstuff.

Hmmmrph.

I will say, though, I do like the treats Mother gives me, even if some were chosen because she mis-perceives my inherited metabolic adaptations to survival despite adversity and paucity of forage. There are the Hilton Herballs*, which are the first treats I ever met and the only ones I would eat for  a long time. She has some of these for me right now, although I know she gave some to interloping horses owned by people who have never even bothered to come visit me! Giving away my treats!

Another one, and one touted as being for IR horses, is Withers and Withers IR* Cookies. Grey turned me onto these... they are very yummy and Mother crushes them up in her fingers to add to my dinner to make my supplements taste better, as well as feeding them to me for kisses. Their melt in my mouth consistency, however, means Mother shares these with Jeanie, who while very attractive in her older years, has less teeth at 32 than she used to.  These are the only treats she can eat (they do melt/powder/crumble better when the package has been open awhile). Mother gives some of these to Belle and Callie, too, because they are both already very well rounded. Giving away my treats!

Something in common with these treats is their tiny size. Sigh. Human vanity is such a burden.

Speaking of human vanity.... Mother has had pointed out to her that she is woefully absent in pictures on my blog... perhaps a hand here, a leg there. She claims she prefers anonymity, but I have decided to out her. Because she was off with her human family and not me during the holidays, and that's not fair. Fenway says it is OK for the occasional straying from the strict and narrow equine viewpoint in a blog, so I place Mother in my limelight.  I frankly have never seen her as clean as this before, but her hygiene is a topic for another time, I suppose.

 Mother is the brown one in the middle. 

The black one has visited me, with various human larvae. 

The palomino... I'm not sure I know her.

See, Mother? Leave me alone all the time, and there is no telling what all I might dig up on you and present to the world. So you better start visiting me EVERY DAY again... please?





* Items viewable on SmartPak because that was the easiest place to go. Always read nutrition information and consider what is best for the equine/canine/bovine/feline/ovine/porcine involved. Not to substitute for the advice of your veterinarian or other rational human beings... I'm just a horse, after all.

Winter Dull Drums

Apparently there have been some holidays for the humans, but I wouldn't be able to tell. Mother has been listless and loggy and apparently suffering from "the cold". She has, as is typical of her of late, been woefully absent. She did come by to see me today, and gave me a good brushing, ripped out some tail hairs under guise of "brushing" it, and combed through the tufts that pass as my mane and forelock.

She did feed me dinner, and gave me a few cookies. But she also had taken Belle in and brushed her before me, and I clearly saw her give her schnozzle a kiss and cookies pass into her gullet. I am not pleased! I showed Belle I wasn't pleased by making ugly faces and chasing her away when we were back in the field together.

So while others are spouting grand New Year's Resolutions, I am simply plotting: how to get Mother to pay attention to me...  and most important, how to get more cookies.