Point one: I got no real bite to speak of. And I don’t ever bark. I likely wouldn’t even know how if I tried, which would be ridiculous.
Point two: I got four hooves, and a mane, and a tail, and a long forelock. Also, I got a horse nose, and horse ears, and a general horse face.
Point three: I eat hay, and grain, and carrots, like a horse.
Thusly: I am, in fact, a horse. But sometimes on the County Island, seems like a horse has got to state what woulda been obvious back when he was a workin ranch horse.
One time the bucket gal was leadin me home at the end of a long ride, like she does sometimes instead of ridin me all the way to our own li’l horse-corral gate. I don’t know why she does it, but sometimes she swings out of the saddle when we’re nearly home and walks me the rest of the way, I suppose for people-reasons that don’t matter to horses. We was walkin along the side of the big road in such a manner, when a tiny rumbly-car pulled up alongside us and slowed down, and the man inside the rumbly-car said loudly, “You’re supposed to WALK a DOG and RIDE a HORSE!” He said it like he said the funniest thing in the whole entire world. He also wore his hair in a long and proper pony tail, which struck me as downright silly for a man-person, mainly for a person and not a horse, or a bucket gal.
Before I could even flatten one ear in his general direction, the bucket gal shot back, “You mean this” — and she pointed directly at me — “isn’t a dog?” And the rumbly-car man kinda laughed, and kinda stared at us, and then he and the rumbly-car rumbled away.
And then it hit me, like a hard hailstorm outa nowhere when the sun’s still shinin bright in the sky and you trot toward the nearest trees for cover.
Does the bucket gal think I’m a real big dog? And also, would it be so bad for a horse if she did? County Island dogs is nothin but a bunch of pampered pets. So are most of the horses. Maybe it’s on account of the people don’t know we’re actually horses that can handle doin horse things instead of pet dog-like things?
Therefore, point four: I’m willin to be a dog.
And point five: Mind you, I’m not proclaimin I AM a dog. I’m merely sayin I remain open to a dog option if that’s what makes for happy horses and people here on the County Island.
Point six: I know how to bite, although I don’t use my bite because that’s still bad ranch manners whether you’re dog or horse, unless I aim to bite Coors or Coors Light for good reason.
Point seven: I’m already “leash”-broke, and I’m far more house-broke, or stall-broke, than either Coors or Coors Light when it comes to keepin my beddin neat.
Thusly: I reckon I’m already one damned fine dog, even considerin I’m still a lot more hoof than woof.