Happy almost Halloween! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, I’ve been doing this weird thing called school. I promise I will be getting back into the swing of things soon, and back into posting my adventures with everyone’s favorite bay mare. The roomie came home last night and was telling me how Apple got her show shoes off for the season and was promptly lunged after. This made me remember one of my worst experiences with Apple, back when I was pretty new to the whole lunging thing. I even wrote about it back then, and I guess enough time has gone by that I’m finally willing to share. Feel free to laugh, but don’t think less of me!
I don’t like Apple very much right now. I don’t even have anything witty to say about that. Remember how I said that I would do anything for that horse? Well apparently the feeling is not mutual. I may love her, but I really don’t like her at this particular juncture in time. “Why, Ashlea? Oh, why are you so dismayed?” you ask. Don’t worry I’ll tell you, and how.
I guess you could say this day was bound to come sooner or later. People always say that in hindsight, don’t they? I go to the barn almost daily with my roomie and everything just seemed hunky-dorey. I should have known better…
It’s the middle of the night and I’m holding a dosing syringe the size of a small country and twisting a horse’s ear. When I was dreaming about ponies at the tender age of five, this really wasn’t a part of the deal. How did this happen? *cue fade-away music*
Last Friday I found myself off work and making horse treats. Let me just back up a pinch and tell you all how I never really thought I’d ever make horse treats. I rarely make Elphi (my little Boston Terrier) homemade treats. But that is where I was … in my kitchen on a Friday morning making equine nibblets. My roommate was off on an adventure to some show in Louisville; I hear it’s a big deal.
I wouldn’t say I don’t know anything about horses. I know they have been the object of my fascination since the beginning. I used to have a big book of all the breeds and had even circled the ones I wanted to own at some point; the ones adorned with a star were the select few I would beg Santa for every year. I pleaded with my dad to bring Tornado, Zorro’s fiery steed, home for me to play with (how I thought he knew the guy was beyond me). When I was old enough, I was finally allowed to ride.