The TALK

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.