A Horse of a Different Color

I received the following anonymous letter in the mail earlier today:

To a fellow horse lover: 

I am on your road alot and have noticed your two beautiful horses for quite awhile. 

Now I am saddened by the condition I see them in due to the rain of the last few months. Your white horse is hardly white any more. It is so unhealthy for them to stay in such conditions. It does create problems for their feet and their general state of mind.

A fellow horse lover

Since said horse lover did not leave a return address, phone number or sign the letter that they felt the need to pay for postage on, I was unable to send them my response. So, here's hoping someone will pass along this little bit of information to them.

Dearest "Fellow Horse Lover":

While I see you are a lover of horses, and I appreciate that, I really do, it appears you have loved them from afar and never owned one of your own. I say that because, had you owned your own or possibly had any common sense at all, you would know that horses roll for a few reasons. Allow me to enlighten you:

1. For pleasure. Now, I know...your eyeballs just fell right out of your head. How dare these majestically animals find pleasure in rolling in the *gasp* mud. It's true. They enjoy it.
2. For self-maintenance or grooming. Since you have loved from afar, you may not be familiar that horses have hooves not hands, therefore, grooming themselves tends to be difficult. Hence the rolling, particularly in pre-spring months when their many layers of insulation (ie: fur) begins to shed. {Sidenote: if you see my two horses 'biting' each other. Don't call equine social services. Neither is in an abusive relationship. They're simply scratching each other because they are itchy.)
3. To rest. You know when you've stood on your feet all day? All 150+lbs of you? Well my horses are roughly 1200lbs each. While they stand 90% of the time, they do tend to give all four hooves a break and sprawl out on the ground from time to time just to rest their legs. {I know, I should replace the front part of our pen with a Serta Beautyrest. Believe me, if I could...totally would.}
4. To relieve pain or discomfort. Laying down/rolling is a tell-tale sign if a horse is colicing (equine for super-sick). This is one of the few times you will see a cowgirl cry. I can't even be light-hearted here because colic is no laughing matter. I take it beyond serious when one of my horses lays down for a longer-than-normal-for-him amount of time. 

So, now that we are on the same page with why horses roll, allow me to explain why said horses remain dirty after they roll in the winter time.

While I brush my horses daily, the luster and shininess does not reappear in their coats until 1) they lose their winter fuzz, or 2) they get bathed. Since the temperatures in our area have not been consistently above 50-60 degrees in several months, it would literally be cruel to bathe them. Horses, as I mentioned, have several layers of fur, which, as you can imagine, does not dry quickly. When horses are wet, they roll to aid in the drying process. {Do you see the vicious cycle here?}

This leads me to my next point. 

A few weeks ago, our Pastor spoke about a story of a man, his boy and their donkey. The man and his son were leading the donkey into town to go to the market. They passed some townspeople and they laughed and pointed, calling them fools for not riding the donkey.

The man put his son on the donkey and carried on. Then they passed a few more people.

"Look at that lazy boy, making his father walk by the donkey," they said.

So the man got on the donkey, with his son. A few moments later, they passed more townsfolk.

"That poor donkey, you should be ashamed overloading him with the weight of two people!" they said.

So the man and the boy dismounted and decided it best to carry the donkey into town.

My point? Someone will always have a comment, a way they would do it better, a solution to a problem you didn't even know you had. It's up to you how you take it.

I'll admit, when I read your anonymous letter, my blood pressure was for sure at stroke level. I was so angry that someone dare think I would mistreat my animals, and then be so spineless to not own their statement. {I have a metal spine...and it is oh.so.fitting.} While the ignorance on the subject you spoke on is your problem, my reaction is all on me. So, I'm going to choose to hug my dirty babies and have a fantastic evening. My wish for you, the next time you pass my majestically-dirty horses, is that you choose to look in the direction of the boat yard and keep on keeping on. 

Yours Truly,

A Legal Ass...& A Dignified Cowgirl ;-)

(AKA: Eden Hope Saunders)

Attack Goat

Several weeks ago, my cousin asked if I would watch after her horses while she was out of town. No problem.

"The goat eats with one of the horses and the water is by the chickens," she instructed.

*squeal* Chickens! I thought.

I instantly started plotting on how to become besties with my future feathered-friends. I have wanted chickens for a good 3 years- and Santa has totally failed on adding them to my menagerie of animals. 

Day 1. Horses totally ignored me. Chickens hid. Goat was sweet and lovable.

I emailed my cousin that evening asking the goat's name. I felt insensitive just calling him goat. 

"LOL...his name is Christmas," she replied.

I wondered why she LOL'd...maybe it was because I had just told her he used my butt as a scratching post.

Day 3. Fed horses after work. Chickens hid. Goat used me as a scratching post. It was warm and I decided against blanketing the horses until later in the evening.

Huge fail. Horse 1, agreed to blanketing. Horse 2, gave me a middle hoof and took off. I attempted to follow, but somewhere in between hour 1 and 2, I lost a boot in the mud and had a minor tourette's meltdown. {Unless it's a spa treatment, I do not want mud in between my toes.} Christmas, lovingly nicknamed The Asshole decided we were playing a fun little game and his part in the fun little game? Butting me directly in the stomach anytime I got near Horse 2. #notfunnychristmas

Day 5. Finally blanketed Horse 2. #hugevictory Threw feed at The Asshole so he would leave me alone so I could look for the chickens which were no where to be found. 

Day 7-10. CHICKENS!! I squealed as I greeted them and they promptly darted away from me like I was wearing a KFC shirt. #dangit I continued to ignore the goat as much as possible. Horse 1 now recognizes my car and greets me with nickers and sweetness.

Day 11. Horses are in the barn waiting for food. The Asshole, I presume, is with them. Chickens are in the pen clucking around and I.am.thrilled. They didn't run. Today is the day, my little friends!!

I went in the feed room and got the horses fed and took a handful of feed out to attempt to feed one of the chicken's that had followed me to the door. I knelt down in my work clothes and hot pink muck boots {fashion statement, I know} and the chicken began to eat out of my hand. I was hoping that Little Miss was watching from the car because I was beyond excited to have FINALLY made friends with one of five chickens. Chicken ate patiently, turning her head from side to side, as I grinned from ear to ear. 

That's when it happened.

The Asshole came out of nowhere and butted me in the neck, knocking me completely off my feet. I somehow managed to still hold onto the little bit of feed that was in my hand as I laid sprawled out in the mud. {Chicken appreciated this gesture, as she continued to eat out of my hand as the goat butted the Christ right out of my Mas.}

Now, just take a moment and try to picture this. Hot pink boots, legs and arms flailing. Obscenities flying. Goat butting me. Chicken? Calmly still eating out of my hand. 

I get up and wipe the mud and blood off my face {because when The Asshole hit my nose it started bleeding like a faucet} to the best of my ability. I get back in the car and what does Little Miss say?

"How were the horses? Did you see Christmas?!" Little Miss asked.

"We do not speak of the goat."

"Mama, you kinda smell," she replied.

Thanks, honey. I appreciate your concern.

Dear Big Gully

Dear Big Gully,

The beginning of February has a new meaning now. Last year, we were preparing for your next journey- your trip home- to see Karen again, to see your mother and father, your many Wigeons...those special souls who left here before you. 

You were ready, we know that. Although, on the first night Mom and Angie were with you on the mountain- you boldly told the angel that visited you in your sleep to slow down, not just yet. We know that by the end of the week, you were prepared. Your body was tired and ready to be renewed. While we weren't ready to let you go, we all agreed (and still do) that it brings us peace in knowing that your healthy again, telling stories and watching over us.

This morning in church, our pianist played Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. As he began playing, my eyes filled with tears and my heart with sadness. Plain and simple- I just miss you. I miss your laugh and your voice. I miss hearing you call us all Sissy. I just miss you. The song continued and the tears stopped as the beat picked up speed, and I could feel your presence. I could almost hear your voice. The sadness faded.

"Don't cry, shug."

In the year that you've been gone, I feel like so many wonderful memories have been made that we haven't been able to share with you. Our engagement and wedding- moving into our new home with our horses in our yard. I have these selfish moments, moments I just want to share with you, talk with you, and wish you were here instead of heaven. But when I look around...there you are, everywhere. In the rainbow that shined in the sky the March afternoon of the day we got engaged...in the blue sky that showed on our rainy wedding day, in the buck that hangs on our wall- that I decorated for Christmas, because I knew you would've done the same if you were here. {red tacky bow and all}

So, I know you're with us- and you aren't missing a thing. But today, on the anniversary of your journey- I just needed to cry and talk to you and think about all the memories from years before. The memories, that I look back on now and realize those moments molded and shaped me into who I am now. Watching you care for Karen for years- a love that is rarely seen in real life, mostly just seen in Nicholas Sparks novels. That love was just who you were. You didn't love someone a little- you loved them with everything you had. I am so thankful for that. I am thankful to have been a part of your wonderful life story...and I'm thankful that you were such a big part of mine.

I love you,

Little Sissy