Because life with horses is never orderly.
He’s not conceited, just convinced of his greatness. Though I can only guess as to what goes on inside his Highness’ fuzzy little head, I would wager that it’s probably something like the above scenario. After all it’s pretty clear that he’s quite impressed with himself.
Despite me telling Woody it would be in his best interests not to antagonize the large, black beast that lives beside him, he just can’t seem to help himself. After watching Flirt pick him up by the rump of his blanket the other day, I thought Woody might actually give in but no such luck yet. Here’s to hoping these two don’t maim each other with their shenanigans…My money is on Wood though, he’s a sneaky little crank.
Yes, I really am nerdy enough that I would indeed do this. Because nothing says scary like an angry, cross-dressed pony wearing cinnamon buns on his head. Well, except maybe a groan worthy play on words to accompany it.
Despite telling myself I wasn’t going to clip Flirt — in order to save myself the potential death and dismemberment that may ensue once the temperature drops significantly and he gets a cool breeze under his tail — I just couldn’t take his fuzziness&d As a sort of compromise I decided to try a trace clip; in theory he’d be less fuzzy but he also wouldn’t get as much of a chill&d (As an added bonus I also wouldn’t have to clip as much&d) Having never done a trace clip and only really having a vague idea what one looked like&c I decided to Google it for a picture&d This resulted in a plethora of ‘trace clip’ pictures but no discernible pattern that might hint at which photo actually showed a correct clip. At this point I figured it probably didn’t matter, said screw it, and made up my own…While it went well enough, I did fail to consider the amount of thought involved in getting the damn thing even. The final results are somewhat sketchy but he has finally stopped hiding in shame from the other horses so overall I count it as a success.
He’s just lucky I’ve outgrown my clipping designs on his ass phase. Well, mostly outgrown it…So it is now officially Fall. I know this not because of any calendar, but because Woody has transformed from a short, fat, QH into a short, fat, Wooly Mammoth. Said transformation is as inevitable and immutable as the stupidity of the local Wal-Martians I encounter when I’m masochistic enough to shop at Wal-Mart. Due to such, I’ve given up on the more refined ways of keeping a horse from growing a coat (lights with timers and various horsey clothing) and have resigned myself to shearing his wooly butt a few times each winter. I’m pretty sure he’s not a fan of his poodle cut, but I’m not a fan of his wool getting tangled around the girth and him being lathered after a 15 minute ride because he has 18″ of hair and it’s still 90+ degrees outside. As I have the bigger brain and the opposable thumbs, I get to make the call. Surprisingly, he’s yet to retaliate; probably out of fear that it might result in another cut to his already meager food rations.
Don’t you just hate it when someone comes along and puts the kabosh on your brilliantly conceived&c albeit perhaps overly optimistic plans? Some people just don’t have any imagination (or sense of adventure)…Oh well. As for the horses, both seem to think they’re on the verge of dying from starvation at any given moment. Woody especially is still scheming trying to figure out how to get his daily ration back up where he feels it should be (as he’s currently down to almost nothing and still about as wide as an old school VW Bus). As such, if he could find a box large enough for his rotund self I could see him doing something similar to what’s depicted above.
Of course all this is assuming that your horse will even allow you to catch him…Don’t we all love the stroll to the furthest possible corner of the property? It only becomes more fun when you try to creatively weasel out of making the trek back (this is especially true if your horse is 16+ hands). Luckily for me both my guys are easily swayed by the promise of anything edible (or sometimes even just the hope of it) and will usually come galloping up handily.
So this isn’t really a comic&c per se. It’s more of a tribute to Woody&c who is possibly the best horse my dad ever bought me. Every other horse I’ve owned has somehow managed to maim themselves or me at such regular intervals as to make any true progress little more than a farce. Woody, on the other hand, despite his perpetual state of disgruntlement, has never let me down. I absolutely adore my little man, even if we won’t ever get to Grand Prix together. 🙂
For the record, Woody is convinced he’s at LEAST 17 hands tall and has more presence than any silly warmblood.
Happy 4th of July, everyone! Hopefully everyone had an enjoyable holiday sans any trips to the hospital. The boyfriend and I had a good holiday. Poor Hobbes was convinced that the world was ending though and thus spent the majority of his time wrapped in a blanket in the closet (most likely trying to map some sort of escape route where we’d be safe from the bombs above). Woody and Flirt seemed unfazed by it all, though I’m sure Woody attributed all the explosions to those sketchy ass llamas next door; they’re always up to something.
(Why yes, Hobbit does enjoy the closet).
Woody knew better than to go foraging around the berm…
I assume something akin to this scenario is why Woody has such an aversion to the berm and its unsightly inhabitants.