When I was a workin ranch horse, proper things happened at proper times, and wasn’t all mushed together like they often is on the County Island. Such as feedin time, as a chief example. Lots of times, I got to get rode for a pointless but alright pleasure ride smack dab in the middle of feedin time. This time of people-year, that means in the middle of suppertime. Sometime in between my main meal of my own bucket of pellets and sweet feed and such, and my follow-up meal of grass hay and just a bite of alfalfa hay, I got to get rode. Did I say I got to get rode and worked in the MIDDLE of feedin time, unlike my ranch days? Mostly I don’t complain about it, but I do make note.
Tonight’s ride got further delayed by the discovery of a heart along the trail. Apparently, we had to stop and make a picture of it. I don’t know why, nor does a horse really care. It wasn’t even a real critter heart, like one that’s been disemboweled out of a critter’s own insides, in which case there’d still be no point in makin a picture of it on account of a picture wouldn’t help the critter who lost it none. And I got no idea why it was lyin where it was, nor how it got there.
And also, makin a heart picture delayed me returnin to part two of my supper – mainly my dearly loved alfalfa part. On the ranch, supper was the reward and rest after a day’s work, not somethin that got interrupted by pointless pleasure ridin and picture makin. Did I mention that yet?
It was also kinda heartless of the bucket gal – who I try real hard never to talk ill of, all of y’all can likely attest to – to rein me in when I wanted to jog on past the heart. Sometimes people like it when an old horse wants to jog and maybe has a li’l bit of a jig in his step. Other times, they don’t. Which is all more proof to me that County Island people exist in a continual state of confusion, unlike us horses who is real clear in our thoughts and our ways.
So anyhow, here ya go. Have a heart, for what it’s worth, which likely ain’t much.