Dog Days of Summer

  1. It’s Taco Tuesday!
  2. Taco Tuesday special report
  3. Back in the day, I was a racehorse.
  4. To graze, or not to graze: that is the question
  5. It’s a miracle, I tell you, a miracle!
  6. The fine art of accepting treats from your human
  7. They called me the Cat Burglar
  8. Overall, the food here is very good.
  9. Inquiring minds want to know
  10. Housekeeping
  11. The new guy moves in
  12. Happy Vaccination Day
  13. Malfunctioning fly sheet edition
  14. The great escape
  15. Dog Days of Summer
  16. Down and Dirty
  17. The Quiet One
  18. Forest Monsters
  19. When the Farrier Comes
  20. Mealtime manner
  21. Happy Hour
  22. A day in the life.
  23. The Walking Wounded
  24. Friends
  25. Ginger the racing pony
  26. Those Dangerous Cows and the Gate
  27. Drunken sailor and the pregnant lady
  28. How to eat hay 101
  29. Fly-free at last
  30. Body Work Edition
  31. Rainy days and dry stalls
  32. The dream galloping edition!
  33. Where did Mocha go?
  34. Water
  35. Flying squirrels and giant lizards
  36. Leo came to town
  37. It’s Taco Tuesday again!
  38. Facemask tug-of-war
  39. Hey, it is Taco here with an update!
  40. Taco Tuesday – Foot abscess edition
  41. What next?

It is hot… and humid… and buggy. So very buggy. I know we are in for a scorcher when those pesky insects start buzzing before the morning meal hits the feed pan. It’s a sure sign that it is time to retreat into my stall and park myself under the fan for the day. That poor dude Oreo, he is still young, so every morning the Short One tacks him up and out they go. I might be jealous for about 2.5 seconds and then it passes. Whew, makes me hot just thinking about it!

Ahhhh, but let me tell you, when I was an event horse, I laughed at heat and humidity. I remember galloping into the vet box after an exhilarating cross-country run. I was hot, sweaty and blowing hard, but I didn’t even notice. I was pumped! I was a finely tuned athlete, a cross-country machine! My rider would pull me up and leap out of the irons, a bunch of people would swarm up to me, my tack would disappear, and they would start sponging me down with icy water and offering me a cold drink. They would dump buckets of water over my back and I would dance and pull on the lead shank, eager to run the course over again. I liked showing off and I loved nothing better than hunting for those flags and flying over those fences. I didn’t care how hot it was.

Ohhh the memories. Best of all, I loved to gallop… FAST! As a youngster, when we schooled cross-country, I would get going along and just ignore my rider when she asked me to slow down. “Why slow down?? Let’s go faster!” I would think.

Overcome with enthusiasm, I would let out a big buck, yeehaaaa! I never did figure out why my rider would jump off when I did that? It will always be a mystery, I guess.

But now, I am just fine with hanging out under the fan, munching on my hay while the Short One fills my bucket with nice cool water.

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