If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .
Friday afternoon, clouds and rain, 52 degrees.
Sorry no post yesterday. One of the horses, Petra, was very sick. According to Dallas, sometimes horses get sick from eating too much green grass too quickly. Anyway, he picked her up in the horse trailer and worked with her, giving her electrolytes, and some concoction for constipation. Corey went back over last night to double check on her and make sure that Dallas hadn’t just shut her up in the barn. Fortunately, he was pleasantly surprised as Dallas was genuinely taking care of her.
I won’t even get into details on the last thing he did when one of his horses died, but suffice it to say that had I been present, I might have beat him with his cane . . .
Anyway, while he was here, Dallas also loaded up Amy, Boots, and Franklin. He had said that he wanted to separate Franklin from any of the mares that might be going into heat, which is fine, but I still don’t know why he took Amy or Boots. He assured Corey that he’d return Boots and Petra. At least he knows not to touch Napoleon.
More later Peace.
We should all strive to be the people our dogs imagine us to be. Just saying . . .
I can actually see something like this happening . . .
I don’t know if this one is true, but it’s what I imagine I’d do if ever I was forced to be a greeter . . .
What the hell are people learning in school lately? Anything? Anything? Bueller? Bueller?
Is it sad that I can relate to this kid?
Me, at the end of “Orphan Black,” or “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” or the upcoming final season of “Game of Thrones.”
And finally, I will always, always, post Nurse Rat-chit:
Music by Phantogram, “Black Out Days”