Monday, March 02, 2009

The Great Return...

Tia's boyfriend lives just down the road from us, and a right turn away. However, Tia's ride home from her boyfriend's house was a long and windy one. That's just how Tia rolls.

The romance wasn't exactly over when she was brought home, but everyone involved had had enough of her prancing around with her tail in the air like some kind of harlot. Our mare is a lady.

And so she returned to the land of Thoroughbreds, whose heights outdo her and whose spirits will not be held back by her biting of their faces.

I went down to visit the lot of them, with their noses sticking out of their stalls after work tonight. I brought with me a *plastic* bag of apples.

My one true joy in horse ownership is to feed my horse treats at the end of a long day. That long day generally has nothing to do with having ridden my horse for all he's worth, as I spend so much time away from home that I generally can't ride him.

And so, I feed him treats so that he knows that he is my one true horse, and that I love him dearly. When working with equines, love can always be purchased with carrots and apples.

This is the bain of my father's existence. He hates nothing more than a person feeding a horse treats by hand.

Tonight I approached with apples, which Tia tends to dislike. A carrot, she will accept. An apple? She has to think about. (Zydo and Summer scarfed theirs down so quickly that I don't think they tasted them, but that is neither here nor there. They are boys, they are Thoroughbreds. Enough said.)

Tia was wary of the apple. She had to sniff it and dart back a time or two before she took it from my hand, and ate it carefully as though it was poisoned.

And as she ate her last apple, the bag became empty. I noticed that Tia was concerned about the presence of the plastic bag in her barn, so I decided to crumple it and see what her reaction would be.

She bolted away from the door of her stall and I decided she needed some aversion therapy.

And then Tia proceeded to attempt to escape the solid plywood wall of her stall, kicking out with her hind legs and shivering as though a wildcat was standing in the doorway.

Life here at The Ranch just isn't the same without our much loved Arabian mare.

I'm glad to have her home.

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