When the Farrier Comes

  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 just isn’t as easy to stand on three legs as it used to be. “The mind is willing, but the body has other ideas”: isn’t that how the saying goes?

It always catches me a little by surprise, because I still think of myself as a finely tuned athlete ready to leap tall jumps in a single bound and run like the wind. But every 5 weeks, reality hits home when the farrier comes to trim my feet.

As feet go, mine are pretty tough and I don’t have to have steel shoes anymore. After all, I mostly just nap anyway, and I certainly don’t need shoes to frolic in the pasture with my pal Oreo.

Oreo doesn’t have shoes either. He has the biggest feet I have ever seen!! (Let’s keep that between us because he is a fine-looking fellow and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He can’t help it if he is one of those warmbloods.) Where was I, oh yeah, even though I don’t need shoes, my feet are still fragile—I am a finely bred thoroughbred you know—and if they aren’t trimmed regularly, I get chips and cracks and it is just a mess.

So, every 5 weeks, like clockwork, the farrier comes. This resort has a really fine farrier, Meghan is her name. She is extremely patient with me and gives me time to bend my old stiff joints. She doesn’t get mad if I lose my balance and have to pull my foot away. She has the patience of a saint because sometimes it takes me a few minutes to get comfortable.

When she trims my back feet, she puts a nice cushy, wide boot on the opposite foot to help me feel more comfortable. At first, I wasn’t so sure about that boot, but wow, it really makes a difference. I get lots of treats when the farrier comes, which always helps. I never mind being the center of attention.

I had my mom take some pictures of me and Meghan for my scrapbook. I like this one the best! I am such a clown sometimes.

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