From time to time I complain on this blog about the horrible tragedy of my childhood regarding my never having been successful at talking my parents into buying me a horse.
Well, Dear Reader, I am happy to report that this tragedy was finally remedied when I got my first horse at age 50. Better late than never I always say.
Meet Joey! My retired racehorse whom I often refer to as Sedentariat:
Anyway, here’s the real Joey:
So yesterday,I went out to the stables where Joey lives to spend a relaxing afternoon with my beloved steed.
First, I pulled Joey away from eating alfalfa, took him out of his stall and tied him up at the tie rail. Now since it’s been raining, his stall had three deep puddles which I had to bail the water out of using a dustpan (the only thing I could find).
Then since all the open spaces were occupied with other horses and riders, I had to turn him out in a round pen at the top of a big steep hill.
So I trudged up the hill, put Joey in the pen, trudged back down the hill, bailed more water out of his stall, shoveled out a trench outside his stall so the water in the stall would drain better, trudged back up to the top of the hill, got Joey, trudged back down the hill, washed and treated his legs (he has a weird skin condition on his legs that I’m always slathering the latest “cure” on) –then dissolved his antibiotics in some water (for the leg condition), hid the liquified antibiotics in his alfalfa (when he wasn’t looking), bailed more water out of his stall, schlepped in a big bail of shavings, covered his stall floor with shavings, walked him around and let him eat grass while the “slather” on his legs dried, put his blanket on him and, finally — a mere three hours later, returned him to a nice clean, fresh, dry stall where he resumed eating alfalfa.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, my childhood dream come true!
Until next time . . . I love you