Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Diva's Diatribe

Mama says I have to write a report on yesterday's field trip. I don't know why.  I think it's STUpid. I mean, like, really, it's not like I need to learn anything.  I'm pedigreed.  If I wanted to know anything, I'd just make one of the grade horses look it up. They're my minions.

Mama decided that because the weather was "so lovely!" (gag) that we were going for a trail ride.  She didn't even bother to ask me how I felt about it, like she didn't think my opinion counted. Rude. And, as usual, she invited some strange person to ride with us.  At least this time she didn't make the strange person - in this case, Hannah - ride me.  I got stuck with Evil Blonde Girl (Scotlyn).  Scotti isn't all bad; she feeds me a lot, but personally, I don't think that gives her the right to just throw a saddle on me whenever she feels like it.  I have rights. You know why Mama never rides me?  Because she has to ride her "sweet boy" (blech, right?) Blitz.  He thinks he's so perfect, and he's not even registered.  Can you imagine?  And Mama just thinks he's sooo wonderful.  Pffft, not even!

I got last pick on the saddles too, like I'm the least important horse or something.  I got stuck with Daddy's ugly, heavy, roping saddle.  I hate that thing!  It doesn't fit right and slides around, and it rubs my lovely high whithers.  I told Mama I didn't like it when she saddled me, but she just slapped my neck and told me to suck it up buttercup.  She didn't even blink when I tried to bite her.  Hannah was impressed, at least.  She thinks I'm mean.  I laid my ears back at her just for fun, and she almost fell backwards trying to get away from me.  That was fun.

When it was time to get in the trailer, Mama said Blitz got to go in first.  Probably because Blitz is perfect.  What am I, chopped liver?  Moonshine, the village idiot, got to stand next to him in the front. 

"Yay!"  She whinnied.  "I get to stick my head over the top and my nose go all ..."  and she flappled her nostrils like a kite.  Like I said, village idiot.

Blitz just stood there without a word, like the king of the horse trailer.  Like he deserved to be at the front of the trailer.  Like he was king of the stinking trailer.

Next Mama loaded me, right behind him. Great.  Blitz does his business in the trailer, like, a lot. Always a pleasant experience.  Jane always gets loaded last.  Mama says it's because Jane has EDA rights.  That's Equines With Disabilities Acts, in case you didn't know.  She had a sarcoma on her eye, so instead of paying boatload of money trying to save the eye, Mama and Daddy decided to feed the kids and pay the mortgage instead and *pop* out came the eye.  Now we call Jane "Cyclops", but only when Mama doesn't hear us.  She's all about being PC.

"Diva Louisa, move your red butt over," Mama said.  I didn't like her tone, so I moved my butt over all right. I moved it more to the middle. She stood right behind me (brave or dumb? - you decide) and shoved me the other way.  I don't put up with that, fer sure.  I lifted my foot and cocked it to let her know she better behave herself or else.  "Put your donkey foot down, afore I shove it somewhere unpleasant," she said, giving me another shove. 

Oh no she didn't!  Did she just call me a donkey?!  She did, didn't she? I'm a registered Half Arabian/Half Saddlebred!  I am no donkey, I tell you what!  I am a National Show Horse, worth like a gajillion dollars. I was so mad at her that I stomped my foot and bit Blitz on the butt.  That'll show her.  Blitz woke up from his slumber and passed gas right up my nose, and all mama did was shove me again.  She didn't even apologize.  I will not put up with this treatment.  You just wait, she'll get hers. 

Once we got out on the trail, things went okay for a while.  I like getting away from the house so much that it's worth putting up with people, at least once in a while. And Scotlyn was riding me, and she ain't near as uhhh, Mama.  That woman nearly makes me swaybacked. 

I had to admit it was a pretty day.  It would have been perfect, if not for Ainsley sobbing hysterically behind us that she wanted to go back and Mama yelling even louder that nothing was going to happen so shut up already. At least Mama talks to everyone like that, and it's not just me.  Except Blitz - she never talks to Blitz like that. He can do no wrong in her eyes. I hate him.

We'd been riding about half an hour when Ainsley's wounded-moose wails took on a shrill quality of the breaking glass type.  We all turned to look and saw Jane flop to the ground with Ainsley still on her back, mind you. 

"Just step out of the stirrups, Ainie,"  Mama said.  "No sense making a big fuss."  She turned to Jane, who was desparately trying to rid herself of the saddle by rolling from side to side and said, "This is really getting old.  You're a horse, for crying out loud.  A beast of burden.  Get up and walk." 

"Carry me,"  Jane whined.  "I'm can't go any further.  My legs hurt.  My back hurts.  I have a headache."

And they call me a drama queen? 

So Ainsley refused to get back on Jane (go figure) and rode double with Mama on Blitz, while Mama sang his praises about what a good horse he was all the way back to the trailer.  Like he was the first horse in the history of the world to ever be ridden double, seriously? Ugh.

This is what I have to put up with.  I should be living in an air conditioned stable, attended to by grooms and stable hands, fed a special brand of mash, and have my mane braided daily.  Instead, I'm thrown in the pasture with prehistoric horses of limited intelligence and we all have to share one stall, which Blitz gets dibs on.  Our feed buckets hang on a fence and we get a scoop of Stock and Stable 12 thrown in it.  If I maybe happen to spill it, I'm expected to eat it off the ground.  The ground!  But ...I get kisses on the nose and scratches behind my ears.  Mama usually calls me "pretty girl" when no one is looking. 

I guess it's all good.

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