Unlikely Insights Into A *Deviant* Equine Mind…

Whips, Chains and Spurs, OH MY!!

For those of you easily offended by off color stories, do not read this. Yes, it’s about deviant findings of an equine mind. 

I always knew something was up with that horse, but I never expected this.

Today was perfect. Perfect weather, perfect horses, perfect rides. I was able to put Storm and Sweetheart through their paces today, and get some much needed grooming/horsekeeping updated. 

I was privy to some.. Rather private equine thoughts this afternoon. It’s shed a new light upon at least two things: The way Storm thinks, and : Maybe sometimes horses really DO like to piss us off. Or something. 

Okay, explanations. 

After putting Storm through his paces (I forgot how much damn fun that horse is), I trimmed his feet. One (Left Fore) needed some good work - it looked like it had last been trimmed with a damn cheese grater or something. Anywho, I’m doing my business, trimming it up, and Storm decides to start fighting me. My theory was that by riding and cantering/galloping him all over Farfel Mountain, he’d be too worn out to fight me much while I tackled his feet. 

Not so..especially when said horse has an unexpected pain fetish. 

He fights. He pulls back. He tries to lay down. He tries to stand up (rear). He tries to back up. He does everything in his power to make this difficult. And as any of you who has ever worked with trimming an unruly horse knows, it HURTS. 

As Mustang Sally and Wild Woman can attest, I’m a Fike… when I get hurt, I want to hurt back (typical and ALWAYS passed down Fike Family Female trait). Having a 1200 lb horse try to lay down on you while at the same time yanking his foot from between your already sore knees (from previous attempts) doesn’t feel good. The rasp inevitably slips and slices half of my fingers almost off and leaves nice bloody tracks across my knuckles. I drop his foot and go to war. 

Now, for anyone that knows me realizes that for me, this means not a whole hell of a lot more than yelling, cursing, stomping around mad and trying to keep my patients. 

However I was dually hurt enough to make him say “Uncle” a few times, and leave a clear impression upon him of just what I thought about his little games. 

Or so I thought. 

I happened to glace under his belly, and he’s hard as a rock. Damn horse is so turned on his Johnson is almost fully out and flat against his belly. As they say, Chuck Norris isn’t hung like a horse….Horses are hung like Chuck Norris. 

I very carefully back up and look back at Storm’s face. His ears are pricked forward with the utmost interest to see what I’m going to do to him next, and he’s got the most innocent expression on his face. 

He nickers at me as if to say, "what?" 

I call him as asshole and decide that today’s trimming session is done. 

Sometimes men are pigs. Even the equines. But I have to admit..they’re funny as hell.