|
Saturday, September 25
It has been some considerable time since I last wrote, I suppose you are
all starved for news.
First of all, I have been on a hunger strike. I don't eat my grain
anymore. I have lost some weight and I look good. Why have I been on a hunger strike? Because I don't like
my stall. I have eaten a little tiny bit of wood off the wall. She calls me Mary Kate, but she secretly hopes
I don't gain back too much of the weight.
On Thursday I am moving out to pasture board. There I
will have a run-in shed, many trees, lots of grass. I will also have two ponds. In preparation for winter weather,
I also have a new Rambo heavyweight blanket. It is just like my hoodie, that is to say, it is purple, but no hood.
Second. As you may know, a tornado passed by about a week ago and
touched down not far away. I could hear it. It sounded like a freight train.
Looking back on it as I write, not really much has happened.
Oh wait! Cows have come to live nearby, there are about eight or
twelve of them. They have all got horns. I wish I had two horns on my own head.
Wednesday, September 8
It has rained all day and all nite. Not a cold rain, but I am sick
of it nonetheless.
Tuesday, September 7
Here comes the teacher and so we go in the indoor and work awhile.
Afterward, it starts to pour down rain.
Monday, September 6
Correction, make that six leg baths in a row.
Sunday, September 5
Yet another leg rinse today, this makes five in a row.
Saturday, September 4
Young Jack Pinnix comes out today and I haul him around for half an hour.
Going slow is hard work.
I have some friends here, Ginger and Afara. As soon as we get back
out to the field, I trot down the hill, past the water trough, then run fast up the big hill to see them. We hang out
underneath the trees and stare at each other.
Friday, September 3
I am getting a Nice Scab.
Thursday, September 2
She comes out again to treat my cut. It gets rinsed off with betadine
solution and patted with a clean soft cloth. I stand in my stall until it is perfectly dry, then she slaps on more Fura-Zone.
I am going to have a really cool scar.
Wednesday, September 1
Some guy tries to sniff my butt and I kick at him through the fence.
Pig.
I tell her I am fine, I am not even limping, but I still have to go up and get my leg sanitized.
She stands there for 10 minutes thinking, "Should I wrap it or not? I want to turn her out so she doesn't get stiff on that
leg, which means I would have to wrap it tight . . . I don't want to wrap it tight across that tendon . . . but if I don't
wrap it tight the bandage will slide down and not do any good . . . I can't keep her in, the leg isn't hurt, it is a superficial
cut, it will do her good to walk around . . . "
Enough already! Turn me out!
Tuesday, August 24
This morning after breakfast, we go to a different pasture. They
mix us around so we don't get bored.
I walk in the gate with everybody else. What is that over there on
that hill far away?
It's goats! Small, medium and large goats. Brown goats.
White goats. Gray goats. Spotted goats. Old goats. Baby goats. And I think I see a couple of
sheep in here too.
They are so polite. And the sound they make is "Neh. Neh.
Neh. Neh. Neh." They have the cutest little teef.
Around lunchtime, my mom comes to ride me. We tack up and go up to
the indoor, where it is cool. She goes to hop on but I am having none of it. I want to go back out to the field.
"Whoa, Natasha," she says.
"No way," I say.
A big cussfight ensues. Finally I give up and she gets on.
Next thing I know, the teacher is here and we are working hard. Afterwards, a quick shower and
back out to the field I go. I run out to my friends as soon as she takes off the halter. "Hey, wait up for meeeeeee!"
Monday, August 23
9 a.m. We are all out here having grass, waiting for breakfast.
I look for a golf cart. In my experience, a golf cart means you are going to get grain soon.
Here comes Rush in the truck. We are far away, but we see him coming
around the curve in the dirt road. Everybody starts walking towards the gate.
"Hurry, Natasha! Do not get left behind!" they tell me.
We start trotting. I stop to wait for my halter and leadrope.
"What are you doing? Comeonit'stimetoeat!" they holler.
Rush opens the pasture gate and next thing I know we are all trotting up
toward the barn. This is new to me. We walk down the aisleway into our rooms. Which one is mine??!?
I have forgotten!
"In here, Natasha," says Helen.
My stall! My grain! My hay! My water bucket! Right
where I left it.
We eat and go right back out. We repeat the process again in the
evening.
Sunday, August 22
Day Two. I wake up, stretch, take a sip of water. Here comes
the feed cart. My food gets scooped into my bin and I dig in. While I am eating, Rush comes in to clean my stall.
Then I put my mask on and we go outside. I am going out with Molly this morning. This afternoon, I will meet a
few other women.
You are not going to believe this, but I go out in a field next to three
honkeys.
Yes. Two gray ones and a dun. They are called honkeys because
that is the sound they make when they sneak up on you from behind a hill and stare at you.
The day passes. In the evening, my mom and Jack Pinnix come back and bring me inside for grooming
and a walk around. There is a big sho there going on. She walks me around like a dog, except I don't pee on anything.
Yesterday evening, we take a quick ride around the indoor. It is funny to ride inside.
It is like being in a giant stall. It rains outside, but I don't care, we are dry underneath this roof.
Later this afternoon, it's back outside. There are four more people in my pasture when I get
back out there. They're all down there by the pond. Excuse me, but I must go talk to them.
Saturday, August 21
Today is the day of the big move. I am ready. I have packed
all my things. I have had my mane pulled and gotten a bath. I have left a forwarding address.
The big truck pulls up. Three people and a little boy get out.
One of the people is my mom. A dog named Bloo is on the back of the truck.
I get my boots on and we walk up to get in the tunnel. It is not dark at all in there, so I hop right on and we take off.
We go down the interstate. People are staring and Bloo and me.
We stare right back. Before long we are at the new place.
I hop right off the tunnel and start eating grass. There is a big
ring underneath a tent. Another ring is beside it. A round pen. A huge ring with stadium seating along one
side of the hill. Oooooo. That is where people will go to watch me, probably.
We go inside the cool barn. "This is your place, Natasha," my mom
says. So I walk in.
What does my new place look like? I will tell you. Pull the
sliding door aside and step over the threshold. To your left is my feed bin. Over in the right corner is my giant
water bucket. I have got my own water spigot. I can't turn it on by myself, but I have got one all the same.
In the back right corner is my own personal hay pile. And in the back left corner is a brand-new 50 lb. mineral block,
never been licked on. A window runs along the entire back of my stall, a width of 15 feet. There is a fan pointing
on me.
Just across the hall is my own closet
where I keep all my things. Saddles, treats, etc.
Speaking of treats, I have received a good bye present from London.
When I get to the new place, I open the bag and there are hay cubes and apple wafers in there. And there is a card.
I read it and cry.
A lady named Trish comes by and gives me a snack. She and my mom jaw for a while, then we go out and take a look around.
I meet a dog named Ladybug. "I hate rats," she says. "I hate them too," I say. "Have
you lived here long," I ask her? "I also hate mice," she replies, with a crazed look in her eye. I can't get much
out of this Ladybug. My mom likes her, though. She is mostly white and shaped kind of like a football.
We get back in and my mom leaves. I chill in my stall, looking around, eating hay.
I think of the card and sniffle a little more.
Wednesday, August 18
The date of my departure has been moved up to Saturday, August 21.
Dr. McDonell stops by to needle me one last time today. I rear up
in my stall for him again, for old time's sake.
"I'm going to miss you, Natasha," he tells me.
"I will not miss you," I think to my self. "Now get in your truck
full of needles and drive away from me."
I would like to have a voodoo doll to stick needles in. Guess who
my doll would look like?
Monday, August 16
AP saddle, check. Dressage saddle, check. Regular girth, check.
Dressage girth, check. Extra fly mask, check. Bell boots, check. Saddle pads, check. Bridle, check.
Turnout sheets, check. Blanket liner, check. Shoulder guard, check. Groo . . .
Oh, hello there. I did not see you walk up. I suppose
you may be wondering why I am standing here surrounded by a pile of my own things.
See, yesterday, my mom and I are walking to the barn. "Natasha, guess
what, we are moving!" she says.
"I can plainly see that we are moving, you twit," I reply. "Anybody
with two eyes can see we are walking up to the barn."
"No, no, no, Natasha. I mean that we are moving to a new place.
You will not live here any more after August 28."
"Ohhhhh, you mean we are MO-ving! Ohhhhh, okay." Why did she
not just say so?
So it turns out that I am moving to Mill Run in Stokesdale, zip code 27357.
Do you know what they have at Mill Run? I will tell you: A 200' x 300' outdoor ring, with excellent footing.
A 200' x 100' indoor ring, to get in when it is chilly or wet. Another 200' x 100' outdoor ring. A round pen.
Trails. A stall, of course. A tack room of my very own for all my personal items, which I am rounding up right
now.
And do you know what else will be there? Llamas and little brown and white goats and donkeys.
And a cow with a big hump on her back.
And do you know who else lives in Stokesdale? Granny Grey, that's who. I bet she will
come down and pass out out snack treats to me.
Tuesday, July 27
On this day I get an unexpected visit from my mom. How nice of her
to stop by on a Tuesday afternoon to brush me and wash my face and pass out snacks. We go in the aisleway of the barn
and she points the fan on me while I get groomed. Then I go back to my stall and eat hay.
Oh wait, here comes a white truck with som writing on the side. It
says . . . it says . . . "Lexington" . . . "Lexington Large Animal Hos--" . . . "Lexington Large Animal Hospital."
"Lexington Large Animal Hospital"??!? That means somebody is going
to have to see the doctor, ha ha. Let's see, who could it be? Sammy? No, Sammy sees Dr. Newell. London?
No, London is out in the paddock. Gracie? No, Gracie is fine. Carrie? Ransom? Silk? Roxana?
Oh my goodness! I am the only person in the barn! **I** am
going to have to see the doctor!
"Hello, Carter. Hello, Miss Natasha," says Dr. McDonell as he hops
out of his truck. My mom melts into a lump of simpering goo in front of my stall. I can see that she is going
to be of no help.
Just exactly what is wrong with me? I feel fine! What is in
that ziploc bag in his hand? They stand around for a few minutes, chatting. Next thing I know, they are in my
stall, trying to poke me with a needle. I stand stock-still for a moment . . . STOP STABBING ME! AH GOD!
IT IS LIKE A KNIFE GOING INTO MY BODY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE STOP POKING ME!
They try again. This time the needle goes in. "Well, that's
one done," says Dr. McDonell. I look in the bag and see another needle and two squirters full of something. I
can't take it any more. My nerves are shot. I walk in small quick circles in my stall. I rear up once, for
general effect. They start murmuring to me and feeding me snacks. Hah. I cannot be won over so easily.
Dr. McDonell goes to his truck and comes back with the nose-grabber.
Oh man, I love the nose-grabber. It feels so good, somehow. I can never grab my own nose, but this device
squeezes my nose and oooooooooo . . . ahhhh . . . I am needled. He squirts so small amounts of liquids into my nose
and removes the nose-grabber. Wait! Don't take it off yet! I love the nose grabber!
She gives him some money and he drives away. Goodbye, Dr. McDonell.
Goodbye, nose-grabber.
Monday, July 12
My surprise is a black saddle with long flaps on it. We try it on
and I like it. I believe the long flaps are more slimming to my physique.
Friday, July 9
Haiku by Natasha. Here goes:
I.
You must be joking
It is too hot to canter
Unless I am spooked
II.
In the water trough
Stray wisps of hay float on top
I will not drink it
Wednesday, July 7
A surprise is coming to me in the mail. I cannot wait to see
what it is.
An enormous bale of hay? No, too unwieldy. A big strong fan
to blow directly on me and only me? No, noplace to plug in a personal fan.
The suspense is *killing* me.
Monday, July 5
Hot as blazes today and we are all inside, in the cool. The fans
are blowing. Everybody is hanging out their stall doors, staring at one another.
All except me. I am back here licking my mineral block, talking to
my spider.
Sunday, July 4
Here is a poem about horses and fighting, written for the draft horses
who served in World War One.
"The Offside Leader"
by Will Ogilvie
I want not praise, nor ribbons to wear
I've done my bit and I've had my share
Of filth and fighting and blood and tears
And doubt and death in the last four years.
My team and I were among the first
Contemptible few when the war-clouds burst.
We sweated our gun through the dust and heat,
We hauled her back in the Big Retreat,
With weary horses and short of shell
Turning our backs on them . . . that was hell.
That was Mons . . . but we came back there
With shine on the horses and shells to spare!
And much I've suffered and much I've seen
From Mons to Mons on the miles between,
But I want no praise nor ribbons to wear--
All I ask for my fighting share
Is this: That England will give to me
My offside leader in Battery B.
She was a round-ribbed blaze-faced brown,
Shy as a country girl in town,
Scared of the gangway and scared of the quay,
Lathered in sweat at the sight of the sea,
But brave as a lion and strong as a bull,
With the mud to the hub in an uphill pull.
She learned her job as the best ones do
And we hadn't been over a week or two,
Before she would stand like a rooted oak,
While the bullets whined and the shrapnel broke,
And a mile of the ridges rocked in glee
As the shells went over from Battery B.
One by one our team went down
But the gods were good to the blaze-faced brown,
We swayed with the battled, back and forth
Lugging the timbers back and forth
Round us the world was red with flame,
As we gained or gave in the changing game
Forward or backward, losses or gains
There were empty saddles and idle chains.
For Death took some on the galloping track
And beckoned some from the bivouac;
Till at least were left, but my mare and me
Of all that went over with Battery B.
My mates have gone and left me alone
Their horses are heaps of ashes and bone
Of all that went out in courage and speed,
There is left but the little brown mare in the lead.
The little brown mare with the blaze on her face
That would die of shame at a slack in her trace;
That would swing the team to the least command
That would charge at a house at the slap of my hand,
That would turn from a shell to nuzzle my knee--
The pride and the wonder of Battery B.
I look for no praise and no ribbon to wear,
If I've done my bit, it was only my share,
For a man has his pride and the strength of his Cause
And the love of his home, they are unwritten laws,
But what of the horses that served at our side,
That in faith as of children fought with us and died.
If I, through it all have been true to my task
I ask for no honours. This only I ask.
The gift of one gunner.
I know of a place,
Where I'd leave a brown mare with a blaze on her face,
'Mid low leafy lime trees in cocksfoot and clover
To dream, with the dragonflies glistening over.
Saturday, July 3
The other day while I am being tacked up, Dr. McDonell comes around the
corner. "Oh hello Natasha," he says. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU MONSTER!" I think to myself. Then I am informed
that he has come to see another horse, not me. My bad.
We continue to practice. I am getting better. My mom is
getting better.
Hey guess what? She is switching to night shit at work so she doesn't
have to get up at 5:30 a.m. any more. Now she can come out and ride during the day time. This will be good this
fall and winter. We will never need to ride in the dark again.
Friday, June 25
We continue to practice so we can take a road trip somewhere and
school cross-country.
I have a pet of my very own: In the top corner of my stall
there lives a spider, and in her nest are five fat flies.
Saturday, June 12
I take a real bath after work today, not just a rinse. Even
my tail is conditioned and all *ahem* special parts are washed. There is a nice cool breeze blowing and it is a cloudy
day. Feels good.
Friday, June 11
This is the best Friday lesson ever.
Monday, June 7
Green leg bands on my ankles are making my legs a fly-free zone,
just like the package says. Unlike the package says, however, these green leg bands are not the least bit fashionable.
I don't know who wrote that bit of ad copy.
I also have new fly spray in a yellow and black can.
Sunday, June 6
Well well well, look who hops out of the pearl beige Altima.
It is the little boy treat machine.
I receive five or six small treats before we even tack up.
Then it's out to the round pen to carry Jack Pinnix around. I can feel him smiling. We shuffle over to the big
ring real slow and I step over some poles and go around the orange cones. After 20 minutes of this, it's back inside
for more treats.
I wish Jack Pinnix would come to see me every day.
Tuesday, June 1
Hi, thanks for stopping by. My site is being reorganized,
but I will still be here, making entries, forging ahead with my task of providing you, Dear Reader, the intimate details of
my life.
For example: Yesterday I have another bath. Due to all
the rain, I had developed a little smurf on the back of my legs, so we washed it off. Do you have lukewarm water in
your shower? I have lukewarm water in my shower, and let me tell you, it is fabulous.
Friday, May 21
As you may remember, I am first and foremost a woman of science.
That, and my picky nature, is why I am helping to test experimental treat recipes. My colleague London and I are
working hard to help my mom come up with nutritious treat recipes that are palatable to all horses.
Last week, we test oatmeal carrot. This week, apple raisin
flax snacks. Next week: honey sunflower.
It is a difficult and demanding job, but it is all in the interest
of science, you see. This is one of the rare instances when animals *should* be used in experiments.
Tuesday, April 20
Today I am needled full of domo and my teeth are rasped. Soooo
sleepy now. Pumpkinhead comes out with my mom to visit. "Did the dentist give you a complimentary toothbrush?"
he asks.
Other smart remarks Pumpkinhead has made in my presence: "How
much do you think we could get for her per pound?" "Why is her saddle so much wider than all the other saddles?"
"What is that smell?"
Tuesday, April 13
It won't be long before Dr. McDonell comes to rasp on my teef.
He has already been out to needle me a couple of weeks ago.
"Let's save Natasha 'til last," he says. That way we can spend
more time together.
Monday, April 12
Brrrr! It has been cold outside lately. Let me tell
you what I think about Spring. Why do we even have this Spring? Why not just call it, Winter, Part Two.
Still, I am ready for fly season:
- Fly spray? Check.
- New fly mask? Check.
- Desitin? Check.
- Swat? Check.
Sunday, April 11
Easter Bunny comes to see me today and brings me small baby carrots
and an apple.
Saturday, April 10
The Yard Sale is a success. At 6 a.m. there are already people
in the yard, milling around like zombies. By 11 a.m., almost everything is sold. What is left can fit in a shoebox.
The shoebox is labled, "Free Stuff" and placed by the curb. Ten minutes later a kar stops and takes it away. My
mom goes home, eats a bowl of soup and sleeps for four hours.
Saturday, April 3
I hav ordered ten pounds of garlic in powdered form from my good
friend Don at Herbs4Horses.com. It is to keep vampires away from me.
I hav also ordered a new fly mask, it will be here Monday.
Hopefully this one will not rub my delicate cheekbones.
My mom has moved and sold her house. They are working on all
the paperwork right now. So no house means no maintenance, which equals more fun time for us. She says they are
saving up for a Farm of their own so I can come live with them, as soon as she figures out exactly what needs to be done.
In the meantime, they are living in an Apart Ment that is way nicer than the house. She says they are not in a hurry
to decide on something, they are going to look for just the right place.
I am doing better under saddle. We are going to resume lessons
shortly and that will be fun.
She is learning HTML (welcome to 1997, mom) and is going to restructure my page. Hurry
up, I say.
Monday, March 8
As I hav written, my mom is moving. So they are having a yard
sale. I hav a few things to contribute:
- worn-out hoof pik, $12
- half-eaten bag of peppermints, left in tack locker since July, $4
- old salt block, $50
- stiff brush, $96.50
If you are interested in any of the above items, let me know.
Sunday, March 7
Mmmph snarf . . . cannot get enough . . . scrump splack mmmmmm .
. . fresh tiny green blades of grass . . .
Saturday, March 6
I am nekkid today, in case anyone wants to know.
Monday, March 1
It is Monday, March First. Do you know what that means?
It means that there are only 20 more shopping days until my birthday. I will be 18. I can register to vote, just
in time for the Democratic primary.
What would I like for my birthday? I would like a sheepskin saddle pad. I would
like a gentle face rub with a warm washcloth. I would also like some homemade molasses treats and perhaps some small
baby carrots. And I would like all the mud to dry up and go away.
On Thursday night it snowed 12 inches here at 653 Hartman Road.
We all had to stay inside. We don't even hav cable, it was horrible.
I was saddened to hear that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were overlooked at the Oscar ceremony
last nite.
What with all the sno lately, and very little riding, I hav been
feeling somwhat introspective. I found out that I am tentatively up for sale. Why? What did I do?
She says I did nothing wrong, that it is her fault. That she is to blame for not being able to make a connection with
me. She thinks it is her fault that I dislike work, that I always feel edgy, like I am waiting for the other shoe to
drop. I don't know why. I never got much praise before. I figure that when she is praising me, it means
she is weak. I am trying to get used to the idea that just because someone is friendly and kind, it does not mean they
are a pushover.
I must stop pushing and taking advantage at every perceived opportunity.
It makes my mom feel like a loser.
We told all this to one another yesterday. I promise to be
better from now on. I have begun training sessions with someone. I think I will improve. I know I can improve.
Monday, February 9
"NATASHA HAS TWO MOMMIES" . . . or, I Am Out on Half-Lease . . .
to Miss Pam Casey and Lauren. Pam Casey and Lauren bring me alfalfa squares. Pam Casey and Lauren bring me peppermint
flavored cubes. Lauren Casey jumps me around the arena. We jump for real, not tiny baby jumps like with my mom.
I lov them. "Hello, big girl," Pam Casey says to me. "Helloooooo, Natasha," says Lauren.
Yeah, my mom has been so bizzy lately. Interviews for Jack
Pinnix's school. Extra work at work. New job for Pumpkinhead. They are putting their house onto the market
so they can move to a bigger house. They need a house with a liberry so they can net work the computers and put all
the books in one place, and Jack Pinnix will need a place for his desk. And a playroom for his toys, which, though small,
are numerous. Pirate ships, Zurg figurines, tiny cast-iron Spiderman and Hulk, vikings and pirates and all the things
they need.
She has ridden me, like, ten times all fall and winter. Not
that I am complaining, but now she says I must Earn My Keep. I hav to Get a Job. So, I hav.
I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE MY ARABIAN MULLET HAS GROWN OUT and now
I hav normal hair.
Can you believe all this ice and cold weather? Pro: copious quantities of Hot Bran
Mash. Con: We must stay indoors.
Tuesday, January 13
Well, well, well. I hav not spoken to any of you since last
year. I hope you all had a lovely holiday.
Several of you hav written to me asking what I hav been up to.
Let me tell you.
I hav been . . .
- . . . wearing my puffy coat. ("'S'up, y'all?")
- . . . defending my hay piles.
- . . . eating holiday snacks.
- . . . staring into space.
- . . . catching up on my reading.
- . . . waiting for "Gigli" to com out on DVD.
In spite of having two weeks off for the birth of littlebabyjesus,
my mom only came out a couple of times to ride. She tells me she feels discouraged with our progress, or lack thereof. Lately
I hav not seen her. Work has kept her bizzy.
Last weekend I gave pony rides to young Buzz Lightyear.
I walk sloooooooooow.
|
