Dog Days of Summer
- It’s Taco Tuesday!
- Taco Tuesday special report
- Back in the day, I was a racehorse.
- To graze, or not to graze: that is the question
- It’s a miracle, I tell you, a miracle!
- The fine art of accepting treats from your human
- They called me the Cat Burglar
- Overall, the food here is very good.
- Inquiring minds want to know
- The new guy moves in
- Happy Vaccination Day
- Malfunctioning fly sheet edition
- The great escape
- Dog Days of Summer
- Down and Dirty
- The Quiet One
- Forest Monsters
- When the Farrier Comes
- Mealtime manner
- Happy Hour
- A day in the life.
- The Walking Wounded
- Ginger the racing pony
- Those Dangerous Cows and the Gate
- Drunken sailor and the pregnant lady
- How to eat hay 101
- Fly-free at last
- Body Work Edition
- Rainy days and dry stalls
- The dream galloping edition!
- Where did Mocha go?
- Flying squirrels and giant lizards
- Leo came to town
- It’s Taco Tuesday again!
- Facemask tug-of-war
- Hey, it is Taco here with an update!
- Taco Tuesday – Foot abscess edition
- 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.