When the people put you on lockdown, there ain’t much to do other than stare all day at the metal bars that got you surrounded in your stall, waitin for the next meal to arrive, and ponderin how a horse came to be in such a predicament. And so it is with me, right now.
They got me locked up 24/7 — and I think I’m in here on account of the bad hawks (https://countyisland.wordpress.com/2010/08/15/bad-hawks/). I been a prisoner within my own corral on the County Island since yesterday. The hawks, which I still ain’t sure I’ve ever seen in the sky, apparently done me in this time. And in the meantime, Coors Light, a self-proclaimed expert on all things relatin to prancey horses and what he calls “dressage,” keeps chucklin and tellin me how I’m a bonafide prancey horse now because I “got my hawks done.”
The evil vet lady was here yesterday morning, which was when my day went downhill. First, she and our gal spent far too much time talkin in friendly voices while our gal was holdin me by the halter and pettin me. No good ever comes from humans standin around talkin about horses. I got to keep one eye on the vet lady all the time, too, ‘cause one minute she’s kind of cooin all purty at a horse, and the next minute she’s usually jabbin somethin into your hide, or up your nose, or in your mouth, or in worse places.
But they were goin on and on again about how the bad hawks had been misbehavin all summer. Hawks this, hawks that, which has got nothin to do with me — so I kinda zoned out on the conversation. And that’s when she poked my neck with somethin and I suddenly felt sleepy-like. Damn but she always gets me off guard like that. Then she was pokin more things into my back legs and still going on about the hawks while our gal kept scratchin behind my ear, which I do really like a lot.
Then I woke up incarcerated. But my nose was in front of a full buffet: a little grass hay, a little alfalfa hay, and my grain candy bucket, which also had cookies in it this time! There was also soft fluffy wood shavings to stand on or maybe take a nap on. Yeah, I suppose maybe I’ve had it worse in my lifetime.
I guess if I’m in here to wait out the bad hawks for once and for all, I can deal with that. That’s the only likely reason I can think of for bein jailed like I am. But Coors Light, again with his unsolicited expertise, claims some prancey horses live inside stalls all the time, and only get to come out to prance around in circles in the ridin arena before they have to go back behind bars again. All they ever get to do is prance. I reiterated to him that I am not a prancey horse, even if I do seem to fit all the criteria now – I got double brands (https://countyisland.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/double-branded/), I was imported, I got warm blood, and now I either got my hawks done or got done in by some hawks.
I don’t feel like I been prancified. But if you had done been prancified, how would a ranch horse rightly know?