The Walking Wounded
- 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?
Did you miss me last week? I took the week off. Everyone needs a break now and again, don’t you think? A little “vay cay.” I didn’t go anywhere (“stay cay”), but it was nice not to be up against that Tuesday deadline!
I hate to say it, but I got myself into a little trouble Saturday night and cut my leg again. Yes, again. No, I wasn’t partying too hard, you know I am too old for that. It just happened. I don’t even know how I did it! I felt stuff running down my leg and there it was. (That’s my story and I am sticking to it.)
I left a puddle of blood in Ginger’s patio where I was hanging out with her and Oreo. Oreo lives next door to Ginger and we can visit over the fence at night. The Short One found the blood in the morning and immediately came looking for me. “Who me?” I said, trying to look really innocent. “Blood? Whatever could you be taking about?”
Unfortunately, the blood running down my leg and hoof kinda gave it away. I was busted. Actually, I think it looked pretty badass.
After breakfast I made the trip to the wash stall. The Short One sprayed my leg with nice warm water, which I appreciated because it was chilly out! She found the source of the blood in short order, a torn flap on my cannon bone just below the knee. She scrubbed my leg with lots of soap and it took a while to get me all cleaned up. I could hear her mumbling something about proud flesh and how I liked to grow a lot of that, so we had to keep me wrapped up for a while.
I am not sure what proud flesh is, but it must be good if I grow a lot of it, don’t you think?
So this will be my life for the next couple of weeks, lots of bandage changes. I don’t really mind wearing a bandage. Some horses try to take their bandages off, but I never bother.
You would be amazed how many people feel sorry for me and give me cookies when I am injured. There is always a silver lining.