Jumpy, Grumpy, and Lumpy

Mother was GRUMPY today. She tried to take pictures of me, but it was too dark for her camera, although it wasn't really dark yet. She grumbled a bit, but I followed her to the gate, as I presumed I would get fed my dinner.

I made my way through the barnyard to the feeding mat where Callie and Bert sometimes get their hay fed to them. There were still lots of bits of hay, including some delicately pre-masticated parcels. Yummy! Mother went out to get my halter and lead rope, and Scooter (aka Bert) came out near the mat to stare at me while I ate the hay he obviously hadn't wanted before.

Mother I think came back out, but I didn't notice, I guess... these were some really good little hay bits. Callie and Bert get a different grassier hay than the alfafa-y hay Belle and I get so I was concentrating on that and suddenly SOMETHING TOUCHED ME on my hip. I jumped about 12 inches up and about 3 feet away. I really should have kicked out, but I knew Bert and Mother were nearby (and any predator would obviously go for one of them first), so I am glad I looked back as I leapt.

It was Mother! Mother? Really? You scared me half to death. Don't sneak up on me like that. Geesh! You almost always talk to me first... what were you thinking?

Mother sat in the chair while I chewed cuds. As soon as she plopped down, Fat Donkey sailed up alongside. He does that anytime a human sits down in the barnyard. "Pet me, pet me, pet me."

Twerp.

Anyway, no sooner had donkey swooped in than Rosie Grier (the cat, not the football guy)  came up from the other side, and implored to Mother that he be allowed access to her person. Mother said she didn't want him on her. Rosie climbed up. Mother said, "I'm not petting you." Rosie sneezed. He tried to rub himself on Mother's face. She moved her head out of his reach. Seeking solace, Rosie turned...

The donkey's head was hovering over Mother's knees. Rosie started rubbing against the donkey's face. Donkey closed his eyes, and tried rubbing back. Mother grimaced as Rosie's claws dug into her legs as he tried to brace himself against the donkey's affections.

Mother sighed that she must be pretty grumpy if these two still didn't really cheer up. I swear I saw her smile, though.

As I had finished most of the edible hay leavings, Mother put my halter on me. Unfortunately, she had dificulty getting it over my ears and tangled forelock, and I expressed my annoyance by moving my head and jumping around.

She called me a bad name and made a disparaging remark about my IQ and told me I better stand still and behave. gulp. I stood stock still. I allowed her to wrestle my recalcitrant ear into position. Mother was obviously in no mood for fun, so I had best humor her.

While she picked my feet on the dark and windy barn porch, a very creepy place at night, I felt a sudden touch of fuzzy terror on my front legs. AHHHHH!!!! I lept backwards, or tried to, but it was difficult as Mother was holding a hind leg and didn't want me to sit on her. She called me more bad names, and Rosie skittered away. Oh, it was just a cat! I wasn't sure what the heck was there... sigh.

At this point, Mother curried and brushed me and decided I needed a massage. I have been tense lately, I suppose. She worked on my left side, and that was nice. She then started on my right side. Ooh, neck, shoulders, that's nice.

When she started on my back, however, I sidestepped away. That HURTS. Mother looked at me in confusion. She stood on her little step thingy and told me if I wanted a massage I should move back over there. I stayed where I was. She stayed where she was. A minute passed. Finally, she sighed, stepped down, moved the step thingy by my side, stepped back on, and began again.

Owwwww. Owwwwww. Owwwww-OOWWWWW!! I raised my hind foot. Um, my back is spasming now, Mother. Thanks. She kept working on it. Ooohh. If I stand like this, and press up against her hands... ahh, that's a bit better. OWWWWW.... Oww...oohhhh... ahh, that's better.

Mother worked on my back and hindquarters for quite a while. She wasn't sure if I was sore from protecting my not-so-good leg or from my wild running and bucking extravaganza earlier this weekend. All I know was I've been feeling pretty sore, but I feel a bit better now.

I ate on the lawn while Mother prepared my meal. I finally got my dinner (not sloppy enough) and some cookies and turned back out. My after dinner hay was shared with Belle as Mother left.

So it was kind of an odd evening. If Mother is going to be all grumpy and scary and hurt-y like that, she should just STAY HOME.

Oh, but have someone deliver me some cookies, please. Thanks.

The Christmas Holy-day

I must admit, all the talk of Santa had made me excited. Mother cautioned me that I might not get much this year. Not because I didn't deserve it, but it just might not be what I would chose for myself.

Like the series of Adequan shots. I agree, that wasn't on my list of gift ideas. Today is the last one for the loading dose, so I guess it is a gift that she won't be stabbing me as frequently.

Mother said I may have ONE super tasty muffiny cookie, and lots of my Herballs and Withers & Withers Insulin Resistant cookies. The muffin cookies have sugar, and while my IR status is questionable, the simple fact is that sugar is hard on already unhappy joints.

Mother, it's CHRISTMAS!! Come on!! The day when we are reminded to be generous to our loved ones and those in need and, well... everybody. It's the Love Holy-day. It helps us stock up for the year and remind us all how we should be. Can be. Will be!

Now bring me my muffiny cookies! Bring me my muffiny cookies, please bring me my muffiny cookies, and bring some right here!!!

Please?

Donkey says this is his very special holiday. Something about ancient forms of transportation and a desert and blah blah blah. I'm just glad he's getting into the holiday spirit.

Merry Christmas to all!!! May your families be filled with blessings and your hearts with love this and every day of the year.

In Joyful Hope

Mother said that Santa was coming to her house.

Will he come here??

I've been good!! I wonder what he'll bring me?

Mother reminded me that Jesus is what we're celebrating. But He's here all the time.

Santa only comes once a year!

Aiding and Abetting*

Mother came to visit me today, but she was not alone. She brought a human I'd never seen, but who introduced herself by giving me cookies. Mrs. Pastures, in fact... the cookies were Mrs. Pastures, not the actual woman.

I'd really like to meet her!

We went out on the barn porch, and the strange human and Mother brushed me and picked my hoovies and Mother clipped my halter path. They talked about me... Hello, I am right here and I hear every word you are saying. Excuse me??

Mother weight taped me, so I obligingly stood while she snugged the tape. She turned to remark, but then thought  I moved my ribs so she snugged it up some more, all the way to yesterday's weight. The strange human said, "Don't worry, though, he's FINE. He isn't thin."

"Fine" doesn't get me food, lady... I'm not sure I like you. Wait, there is still another cookie in your pocket. I'm sure you are very nice, just a bit misguided in not asking Mother to increase my intake.

Mother wandered off to go gerry-rig the already mickey-moused Multipurpose fence so she could free lunge me in there and stare at my leg. sigh. At least the strange human with one cookie left brushed me and fussed over me while Mother blundered about.

Lots of the fence in the multipurpose isn't really there, or is there but not attached. Sometimes the deer will break a panel, but usually it is Bert barging into things. He is the reason Alcatraz gets redone all the time. He is why we have the zapping fence. The Aunts don't worry too much about the Multipurpose fence, though, as it is closed or open at the gate and if horses are in it, it is OK to go out back into the grassy pasture, too.

Except when Mother lunges me.

Mother hasn't lunged me in a long time, at least a month. She says she has been afraid to look. You don't need Dramamine for this one, because the strange human with one cookie left apparently did the recording. Her device didn't make creepy noises or flash funny lights. I didn't really even notice she was putting my moving soul in the little box, so she can come back anytime (bring cookies).

Mother then took my moving soul and drowned out the bizarre noises she was making by putting some man's voice over it. I think her voice is fine, especially when she calls me "Handsome", or calls me to dinner, or tells me I am a Good Boy.

So as you can clearly see from this, there is nothing wrong with me. All the times I am not perfectly even, there was a tussock of grass that altered my stride, or ahhh... ahhh... uhhhh... and the ground slopes from the snoozing mower end to the gates everywhere end, so there's that and... I'm fine. Really. Nothing to see here. Just skip it, actually.

Afterwards, Mother put me on the lawn while she prepared dinner, then she and the strange human with one cookie left sat and talked while I ate, and even seemed to get in some weird fight that wasn't a fight but made no sense. Mother turned her rump on the stranger and I was sure a melee was going to ensue (you know how mares can be) and I was prepared to move if necessary, but it blew over as quickly as it started. Humans are very odd at times.

The strange human finally gave me her last cookie, and Mother put me outside with more hay and my good-bye cookies. So while I got a lot of cookies, it was a very strange day.


*Aiding and abetting is an additional provision in United States criminal law, for situations where it cannot be shown the party personally carried out the criminal offense, but where another person may have carried out the illegal act(s) as an agent of the charged, working together with or under the direction of the charged party, who is an accessory to the crime... the provision of "aiding and abetting" must be considered alongside the crime itself, although a defendant can be found guilty of aiding and abetting an offense even if the principal is found not guilty of the crime itself. In all cases of aiding and abetting, it must be shown a crime has been committed, but not necessarily who committed it.^[1] It is necessary to show that the defendant has willfully associated himself with the crime being committed, that he does, through his own act or omission, as he would do if he wished for a criminal venture to succeed. (Stolen from wikipedia)

Optical Illusion

Mother gave me another stab, then a good brushing, then weight taped me.

Whenever she does the weight tape, she advocates for me to suck in my ribs so I will appear thinner. She'll pull the little strip of cloth/tape tighter and tighter, and I try to squish my ribs, but eventually I have to breath.

If I did a really good job, she gives me a cookie...

Anyway, today Mother found that upon first putting the tape on, I was easily under 950lbs. When she told me to "suck it in", it made it to 905lbs.

Mother stepped back, stared at me. Poked my ribs. Aunt Marilyn asked if we needed to change my food. Mother decided that perhaps when the current orange food runs out, she'll switch me back to the old horse mush. She wants me below 1,000 weight tape pounds and above "too skinny". I am not too skinny, especially as I have a leg that doesn't need to work harder than necessary, but Mother wants to make sure I stay "not too skinny."

She said I didn't really look any thinner, but that's why she likes to tape me. She says looks can be deceiving, and tangible evidence is better, whatever that means. She claims there is a delicate balance between healthy thin and too thin.

How's this for balanced, Mother?

I can't help but think I look a little top heavy...

Here are pictures she took while I dined on the lawn. It was warm out, so my coat is laying pretty flat, even though it is winter full.

So, is the weight tape stretching? Did I loose all the muscles on my back? Have I perfected imploding my ribcage?

Why don't you just give me my cookies and stop measuring me, Mother?

I'm afraid if I tell her I'm too thin she'll just get all worried that I am loosing weight because my leg hurts and that the wolves will notice my condition and single me out and... never mind.

Of course, I don't want to miss out on a cookie increase or more mush grain if the opportunity arises!

What to do?

Dirt: A Love Story

There was a time, back when I was young and lived in North Dakota, that I used dirt or mud to protect myself from the flies, from the cold, or just because a thorough rub on the ground felt good and getting coated in dirt was the byproduct.

After Mother moved me to Ohio, I found that getting muddy was still fun, although not strictly necessary for insect protection, as she sprays me with fly spray when necessary. But it feels good, and most importantly, getting dirty usually meant I would get a good brushing later.

Unclean

 

then...

 Clean

Unfortunately, now a good roll in the mud means I am going to be sitting with my coat in little spikes until Mother gets around to brushing me. She has been a little lax in the grooming department. When I saw her Friday and pointed out my few little dried mud-y bits, she sighed and said she didn't have time.

Yesterday... well, at least she fed me. Although she even messed that up! She tried to fed me my dinner dry again, and I let her know that was only a kindness on my part and she better not slip out of making me my hot dinner gruel! I let her know by leaving some of my grain and funny supplement bits in the bottom of the pan for fat donkey to consume.

Today she stopped up in the late afternoon, and I was all set for a nice massage and grass time and dinner, the works. Well, best laid plans. No sooner had she put my halter on and led me out of the run-in, Mother got a phone call. She took off my halter and gave me some Herballs and then just left me there. Whhaaaat??? I was nice and dirty, too, Mother...

She came back after dark, and put me on the lawn while she made my dinner. She must have learned her lesson about dry dinner, because it was perfect~ hot and just the right amount of sloppiness... Yummm!! After dinner she put me in the crossties and realized I was even dirtier than when she had seen me in the afternoon.  Well, yes, Mother, I went out and anger-rolled.

Anyway, she gave me a really good currying, although some of the spiked mud-y parts now are a bit wavy and funny looking.

She gave me one of the absolutely decadent muffiny cookies when she left, so I guess it is OK about that weird catch and release thing that happened earlier today. She can do that every day, if it means she'll still come back later and brush me and give me dinner and the yummy-yummy cookies. I next to never get one of those...

sigh

And what about my massage?

A stabbing, a cold dinner, and an unexpected visitor

Mother continues her periodic stabbing of my neck. This is not my idea of a good time, but I do not protest. After all, it is better than a Q-Tip in the face. I believe in focusing on the positives. She gave me cookies, too.

Tonight, Mother brought reinforcements with her. Aunt Nancy and the man came with her. I hadn't seen Aunt Nancy in so long, not since the migration, so it was good to see her.

Mother did not cook my meal tonight. She feed me dry food with all my powders just lying there, although they did taste all apple cidery yummy. I ate it all up quickly, since Mother seemed to want me to hurry.

I know they are all off cavorting. I hope Aunt Nancy comes to visit me again, because she didn't have a chance to give me cookies and I know she really likes to do that, so maybe she'll come see me tomorrow.

That's a long time to have to wait for more cookies...

sigh

Home by Dark, Part 2

Missed Part 1? Click here.

Learning how to jump made me feel special. Three mornings a week for First Ride, Her would come to ride me. Her first made sure I would move promptly off her leg, and promptly from a cluck.

The first week I learned to go over a single pole on the ground and then a series of poles, and in between standards and all other sorts of things. One day she made the pole on the ground into two poles that were low in the middle and high at the ends, which Her called a crossrail. My first few attempts at the crossed rails involved my bumping them with front and back legs. It was high enough I knew I should do more than step over it, but low enough I could step over if I needed to. Those rails were heavy and wood and they stung a little, so I learned by the third time through to not bump them. Her told me how good I was, and we stopped for the day.

One of the nice things about learning to jump was I didn't get ridden very long. A lot of times I wanted to keep jumping things and learning, and Her would just tell me how good I'd been and put me away. I admit, I came to like those three mornings a week. Before long, I was cantering to the fences, and then stringing a few together, and it was all fun; except the combination, which I didn't understand and needed more time to think so I took really little strides and put about 5 strides in. Her had Funny Nice Girl ride me the next time, and I was able to understand how combinations worked. Oh, two strides, that's easy. Oh, and I had learned that some jumps will be wider, and how to recognize that; that some jumps have rails that look funny-shaped or are at angles or whatever, but they are all really just a jump and that's easy.

Funny Nice Girl really, really liked jumping me. She told Her that I was so much fun and she thought I really liked my job. Well, yeah, jumping is a lot more fun than carrying beginners around! Her had taught me to figure out how to jump, and to balance myself, and to go at the pace and direction told; if there was a jump in the way, we just went over it and continued on with what we were doing.

I started getting used for the jump practices in the morning, one day a week. It was more work than what Her had had me do, but the riders were Constants and kind and we had lots of fun. That summer I went to He Who is in Charge's home barn and I went to lots of shows, some with little people and some with a Constant.

I spent a lot of time over the next years at He Who is in Charge's barn instead of always at School, and eventually I stopped going to School at all. Her stopped being a Constant, but I would still see her from time to time and I was always glad to see her. She gave me treats and tail circle massages, which are the best.

There are so many reasons it's good to be here. I get turned out all day with my friends (or all night in the summer) and we always have grass and we only do two or three lessons a week instead of a day like I did back at School.

 So I'm a little muddy. You have a problem with that??

Her has been around a lot more in the last few months, and sometimes she gets me out to just brush me off and give me a massage, or lead me out to eat the good grass in front of the barn. Her was going to ride me in one of the little shows this summer, but I was sore that day when I got into the sand ring (I warmed up fine in the firmer footing of the other ring) so she rode Jack instead.

 Not my usual game-face.

Jack ~ Show off. But I still got cookies, and I didn't have to work.

I'm only sore every once in a while... I still give lessons and jump some, although I admit I feel a little bit stiffer than I used to. My one front leg was cut badly a few years ago, and it is stiffer than any other part of me. I am still the very best horse for jumping without stirrups though, so I am way better than all those tall, silly thoroughbreds.

The other night Her was talking with Little Girl Big, who used to ride me when she was little, although she is not little anymore. Little Girl Big was saying how much she liked me, and that her very first show was on me and she won a championship her first division out. Well, yeah, that's what I do. Little humans seem to like the blue ribbons best, and they really  like the long ribbons. It's good for them to get those long ribbons, because they'll give you even more treats!  And horse shows are so easy: Rider hops aboard, I make sure they know enough to make me go, and then they just tell me how fast we're going and where to go. I love it when there are jumps in the path they pick.

Easy~Peasy.

Enrichment

Mother came up this afternoon while I was loafing in the shed with my Belle. We were grumbling a bit to ourselves at our conditions. The shed needed cleaning, and our mid-day feed was late, as the mysterious uncle was having a birthday and delayed Aunt Marilyn's arrival for feeding.

Truthfully, it wasn't all that late, as our meals are spread out almost perfectly to 8 hours apart, but it was a dreary day and I was feeling grumpy and uncharitable.

Mother appeared through the shade cloth (and why isn't the canvas wind-block up yet?!) and walked to me and said "Hi." She peered perplexedly and with a little concern at the twin marks on the left side of my muzzle ( I refused to tell her if they were from the fangs of a rabid raccoon or if I somehow managed to scrape myself most oddly). I sniffed the needle and syringe in her hand and sighed. She swabbed a tiny spot on my neck with an alcohol wipe, wiped her thumb, pressed... pressed... poked me, did something that feels funny while she looked at the syringe, then pushed its contents into my neck.

Well, OK, but could you feed us or call room service or something? I mean, I stood here perfectly and you didn't even use a halter or a rope on my neck or anything.

Because she understands me so well, Mother put some hay out for Belle and I while she cleaned the run-in. Belle and I both made sure to use it right after she spread the bedding to reassure her we knew what it was for - and to let her know she had job security. That's important in today's human world, I hear.

She brought me in for dinner (Aunt Marilyn was feeding my orange mare and Bert by then) and then I went back out to the Small where Mother had already placed our hay in tiny little pre-fluffed piles all over the ground.

Mother likes to do this when the weather allows for it. So on dry days, not-hurricane-windy days, and even snow-covered but not actively-snowing days, Belle and I must wander around our acre if we want to eat. Sometimes we'll eat a few piles and retreat to the run-in to chat with Callie and Bert through the window. It is kind of nice to be able to go back out and still find hay when you get the urge a little later.

And then later still, I might roam around to see if there was a stalk or two that I may have overlooked earlier.

When I am in a stall for any real length of time Mother usually uses the hay net with the really tiny holes, which is kind of nice because I never seem to run out of hay that way. The aunts don't do that, so while Mother says she would like to have those nets up for me and Belle while we are out in our Small, I guess the tiny "enrichment-exercise" piles will have to do.

Mother was talking about the droughts and shortages that are taking place for other horses out there. I started to feel bad about my uncharitable thoughts of "Where's hay? Where's the cleaning service?". I have become so accustomed to domestic life and easy food and clean stalls that I forgot that life isn't always so pleasant. I mean, I still get hay at least three times a day, and there is still green nubs of grass to nip off, even in such a little area as the Small. And Belle and I don't have to stand in the run-in after we've sullied it. It wasn't raining or even breezy out...

Mother kissed my nose, avoiding my mystery marks, and gave me Herballs before she left. Even though she has taken to this weird obsession of stabbing me every few days, I guess I should be happy for the way things are.

Although she could have given me a Mrs. Pastures cookie today. I know there are still plenty of them left, and I was a good boy and I got shot today. That totally should have netted me a Mrs. Pastures or two.

sigh

Quoth the Cookie

Once upon an aft'r'noon dreary, while I pondered, snoozing, bleary,
Over the many cookies and treats forgotten by Mother's aging mind
While I nodded (almost napping), all at once there came a rapping
As of some dog's tail gently fwapping at my run-in's side
"'Tis just some canine," I muttered, "fwapping at my run-in's side-
No great cause to run or hide."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was quite windy that December,
And each separate wisp of hay would blow; so hard for me to find.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - for rain free days (with sun to follow),
For days with Mother giving cookies and treating me so kind
Warm blissful hours filled with cookies (and treats) of every kind
Mrs. Pastures will do just fine.

Then the wind was surely bustling , and the shade cloth then was rustling,
Chilled me- filled me with a coldness I just couldn't quite define
So to quiet my rumbling tummy (and my shattered nerves need numbing)
I called for Mother to come (and bring the cookies!) in good time,
I just desire cookies now, at any - well, really, ALL times!
Mrs. Pastures will do just fine.

Then the noise I was hearing, (that fwapping sound most wearing)
Stopped abruptly as my neigh's dying echo in the air with it combined.
Quite suddenly, I was full awake. "Perchance Mother has brought for me cheesecake!"
And I braved the wind and staggered out, to find myself most blind
The blistering wind and rain -in my delicate eyes its path did find
Winter pasture is not kind.

The fwapping sound has ended. Oh, there's Mother with cookies: Splendid.
Yet couldn't she have brought them out to me while I was still dry inside?
She kissed my schnozzle sweetly, I picked the treats up neatly
And crunched with eager chomping at the goodness hid inside
Just munching happy cookies as the rain did pelt my hide
"Mother dear, you read my mind."

Home by Dark, Part 1

Mother says I should let him tell his story. Sigh ~ Boyfriend

JONES

I remember being really little, and I had a big mare that I loved and she fed me. But then we were separated. I don't remember much after that until I was two and went to The Auction.

The Auction was really scary. There were horses there that were very sad and unhappy and it was awful. And the loudness and all the people? Awful. When I left the ring, I was put back in a pen, then led away by He Who is in Charge to a trailer, and that is when my story really began.

I went to a strange barn and then off to Camp. I learned to carry people around. They were mostly really little people.

Then I went to a big place, "School", with dozens of other horses and we stood in our stalls all week except when we were ridden, and we went out to the fields on the weekend. Sometimes there were long periods when we went to farther away fields and were left alone except to make sure we had water, and hay if it was winter. Those were fun times... Then every summer again I went to Camp and carried the little people.

I was named after a student, and I am not 100% sure that it was an exemplary title. Being young and everything, I was... uh, a little bit spoiled when I was first at School; I would nip at people. It was just an occasional (OK, constant) nip to entertain myself, or show my irritation, or... well, who really needs a reason?

A few times a year there were strange weekends where we didn't get to go out to the fields except for the last night of the weekend, but instead stood around with saddles on and went in the ring many times with strange riders. During these weekends, I would bite the person holding me a lot, because I would rather be out in the field, you know? Most of the horses' holders would hold them all day, but I would get passed from person to person. I bit them all.

I only vaguely remember the first time I met "Her". There were many students and they mostly just blurred together. This was early on for me at the school, though, and I remember an evening at the start of School as she walked around being introduced to all the horses and told a bit about each one by another student. She seemed to like me, and commented on my attractive dorsal stripe and zebra marks.

I first really noticed Her because she bit me on my nose. I mean right on my soft, delicate nostril. Sure, I had just nipped her, but OUCH! Every time I tried to nip Her, she would chomp down on one of my nostrils. I quickly realized that biting was overrated.

Her started working in the mornings at the School, and she seemed to take a special interest in me. How nice. Many times I would hear, "Jones- incoming!" This was my cue to turn my head to the side so she could hurl her apple missile into the feeder at the front of my tie stall. Her thought a horse that was nippy shouldn't be hand fed treats. Sometimes she walked in and placed it in my feeder, but we both rather enjoyed the missile game.

My life at School was pretty boring the first 2 years. Lots of people that didn't know what to do or how to ride would ride me and the other horses. It was a constant rotation, although sometimes I would get a larger boy and he would be assigned to me several times. As the weeks went on, the riders would figure things out. Then, one day, it would start all over again with new riders who didn't know what they were doing... sigh.

There were certain people we always saw, well for a few years, anyway, the "constants". These constants usually rode much better, and they often seemed to have favorite horses. I was no one's favorite for a long time, although Her seemed a bit fond of me.

One weekend out in the fields, I was in a bit of a miscommunication debacle with one of the mares. I had to jump over the water trough from a standstill to keep from getting the daylights kicked out of me. One of the constants was down at the fields at the time. Apparently, she told He Who is in Charge about what I did, because Her started working with me a few weeks later, teaching me to jump.

It was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Poke, Lather Rinse Repeat

Mother started the neck stabbing shot series on Tuesday. Clean neck, stab, give me cookie, pick my feet, turn me out, more cookies. I like this routine.
 
On Friday she stopped by very briefly (she is ghost-sitting AGAIN!). She really only came up to say a quick hello and give me a treat. Unfortunately, she didn't bother to turn on any lights. I received my cookie with my typical dignity. She scratched my neck and face... and then a finger poked me in the eye. Um, oww. She apologized, but really, such accidents could be avoided by just giving me cookies and leaving; petting areas South of my head; or turning on lights, since you humans have conquered electricity.

 Presumably

Yesterday, Mother seemed happy to see me. She led me to the barn porch, and gave me my shot. I didn't really even feel it, but she assures me I received it. Mother is a presser, not a thumper.

She proceeded to pick out my hoovies, put some purple stuff on parts of my frogs, curry me... all is going well. Then she looks at my freshly rubbed and scruffed tailhead. She hooked up the hose.

Uh oh.

Mother, it is December!
"It's 60 degrees, Bif. And I'm just doing your tail."
Fine.

She didn't say that she planned to do a super thorough job since it might be the last chance for a good long while. She hosed it, she purple shampooed  it, she hosed it, she purple shampooed it, she hosed it, she purple shampooed it. She shoved some suds on my back legs, the not as black parts. HEY! Anything you shampoo gets rinsed, and I don't want more water!
"You're fine, Bif."
Fine.

She hosed all those parts off. She got out the medicated shampoo and did my tail really well all up at the top, underside too. UUUNNNN... that water is cold! I got rinsed very well.

She put the purple shampoo on my tail one last time. I stand, dejected. Rinse. Rinse Rinse Rinse.

She put the purple conditioner on. Rinse, rinse.

OOhhh, a really good muffiny cookie. Thank you, Mother!!

Detangler. She does my mane and forelock, too. Cookie, please? I was good.

Woo, hoo! Cookie!

Then I got to do a lawn job while she prepared my dinner.

I hope the next time I'm due a stabbing she just pokes me and leaves. I do not need to go through any of that other stuff again any time soon. Well, excepting the cookie parts, obviously.