Since I’m still standin around here on the County Island bein hot in the hot time and ain’t got much else to do, I thought maybe y’all would like to play a game with me that don’t involve trottin in the heat. I told the folks who visit me at my Facebook spread that if they asked me a question, likely I’d answer it as best I could – to go on, give it a try, and we’d just see how it went, I reckoned. This here is the end result of that.
Miss Erica asks, Dear Whiskey- What is your favorite color? And if you say lime green I’ll know that the bucket gal is forcing her choices onto you.
Well now, Miss Erica, that one’s easy. Alfalfa green. And if alfalfa was lime-colored, I’d like that, too. My next most favorite color is bucket green, ‘cause green is the actual color of my bucket. I like grass green a lot, too, but we don’t see much of that on the County Island.
Miss Isabelle asks, Dear Whiskey, My Morgan Mare loves the horse dentist but doesn’t like to take the bit, what can I do?
This here is a tough one. I ain’t sure how to put this delicately, so, well, I’ll make it plain. Miss Isabelle, I think your mare might be loco. I realize she probably gets “sedated” like I do for the dentist, so she may not be aware of what the dentist is actually doin. Let me attempt to explain it to her. A dentist drills into a horse’s skull. On purpose. Well, into his teeth, not his skull, but your teeth is in your skull, so it’s the same thing. Why would anybody do that to a horse? I’d rather wear 10 bits all at once than get my skull drilled into, and your mare should, too.
Miss Ann asks, Dear Whiskey – Can you please explain what is so wonderful about alfalfa?
Dear Miss Ann – Can you please explain what is so wonderful about “chocolate”? The bucket gal offered me a bit of what’s called a “chocolate candy bar” one time, and I about gagged on it. The next time, she tried a “peanut butter granola bar” and that was heaven. Well, not alfalfa heaven, but still. I do enjoy sharin’ a peanut butter granola bar with her when I get the opportunity. As for what makes alfalfa so wonderful, well, I highly recommend you try it for yourself. Next time you get a chance, just crunch right into the end of a bale pretendin like you’re a horse. Go on. Do it. I would certainly never stoop so low as to blog about it after.
Miss Isabelle further asks … And what do you think about being a palomino in these days?
These days, bein a palomino seems to be workin out pretty well for me. I heard it said a good horse ain’t never a bad color, but it never hurt to be a purty, shiny golden color.
Miss Karla asks, Should I take my horse to the [name of horse trainer who I ain’t bein paid to advertise for goes here] clinic in 2 weeks?
Well now, Karla, since I myself have benefitted from a lengthy education as a workin ranch horse, I do fully support all horses on the County Island in acheivin their own higher educations. In useful things, I mean. Ergo, that generally excludes prancin in circles. So if you reckon [name of horse trainer who I ain’t bein paid to advertise for] could learn your horse somethin useful and teach it to him in a kindly manner, I’m all for loadin your horse in the rollin horse-box and goin. ‘Course, if you ask your horse, he might say different. But most horses, myself excluded, don’t know what’s good for ‘em, anway.
And Miss Karen asks, Dear WRH: How come my horses don’t like pizza?
Miss Karen, do you know what cheese is? I learned this back on the ranch. It is made with milk, and do you know where milk comes from? A cow’s tit. No reputable horse is gonna touch that. Also, maybe you just ain’t ordered one they like yet. Next time maybe try the veggie supreme with soy.