The Filly I Don’t Want to Sell

As I only have a little bit of time before I’m due to go to a REALLY cool Junior Lifeguard event, I decided that my time would best be spent writing a quick blog that very few people actually read.

To make matters worse, it’s not even going to be a real blog. It’s really just going to be a series of pictures, accompanied by a few whiny paragraphs from me.

As some of you may recall, I’m trying to sell my friend’s horses for her. She’s gone from showing Paints into cutters. For you non-riders, a “cutter” is a horse that you ride to herd cattle about an arena. Basically, you try to separate one steer out of the herd, which usually ends up being a rather cool-looking face off between you and the cow. It’s a trip to watch, and I’m sure it’s even more fun to ride (I’m not nearly good enough to stay on a cutter yet… those horses are QUICK!)

Here’s a quick photo, in case you’re curious what it looks like:

So, anyways, since she’s shifting her focus, she needs to get rid of excess horses that don’t follow her program. As I’m not paying any of her bills, I can’t really complain, even though I think she’s getting rid of the best of her herd.

So, where was I? Oh, yes. Whining.

Now, I don’t really want her to sell any of the horses that she’s selling. They’re all incredibly well-trained (beginner-safe), gorgeous, intelligent, personality galore, etc, etc, etc…. Being me, of course, I’ve fallen completely in love with all of them.

And I’ve fallen especially hard for her filly, Snickerdoodle. (I’ve dubbed her “The Doodle”.)

This filly is barely a yearling, and is already showing signs of maturing to about sixteen hands. As I’m 5’9″ barefoot, I usually look a little silly on the short horses I normally choose to ride. In fact, my friend who I’m selling the horses for says I usually pick horses that make me look like a monkey riding a football.

Anyways, while it’s completely impractical of me to fall head-over-heels for the only non-rideable, untrained horse in the herd…. Well, that’s exactly what I’ve done.

CAN YOU BLAME ME? Look at her! She’s stunning! Have you ever seen a prettier yearling? They’re usually gawky, clumsy, and all out-of-proportion. She’s a little thin in these photos, because despite the massive amount of feed she’s getting, she’s in the middle of a growth spurt. Both mama and grandma have a solid muscularity, so I’ve no doubt that she’ll bulk up as well. Look at her! That mane! That blue eye! That round hip!

I’m such a sucker for blue eyes. I know it’s really shallow, but hey. I’m allowed to be shallow. And she has the prettiest blue eye on such a pretty little head, doesn’t she? And that forelock… that thing is going to be down past her nose in just a year or two. Every horse I’ve ever had has only managed to grow little tufts.

To make matters even better, this filly has BRAINS. In fact, she probably has too much brains for a rider like me (not that I’m letting it interfere with my fantasy). She’s the daughter of an alpha mare, who is the daughter of an alpha mare, who is the daughter of an alpha mare…. Needless to say, she’s already displaying classic alpha mare signs (nothing pissy, just a steady stubbornness that shows that you need to be two steps ahead of her at all times.) That’s not really that great a thing to have in a mare, but I get the feeling if you could manage to stay those two steps ahead… What a partner this filly would make! BRAINS! I am drawn to horses with brains, after the six years of my life I spent trying to convince my off-the-track thoroughbred that he had some.

This is one of the steadiest little horses I’ve ever been around. I get the feeling that, with a personality like hers, she’ll be completely steady until you ask her to do something she doesn’t want to do…. Then, if my guess is correct, you would probably have to prove to her that you are THE BOSS before she took another step. I haven’t actually reached this stubborn point with her yet, simply because (so far) the filly has shown an incredible willingness to learn/work. Because my friend is so overworked, this filly has basically just been sitting out on pasture since she was weaned. When I took her out of her pasture/stall for the first time in months, I only worked her in the round pen for about twenty minutes before I decided to drag her down to the river for her FIRST INTRODUCTION TO WATER, EVER. You horse-people know what that usually means. For you non-horsey people…. Water, because of a horse’s difficult with depth-perception, can be a difficult fear for a horse to face. The horse can’t really see the bottom beneath the surface, so it doesn’t really know if it’s stepping into a 50 foot lake, or a shallow puddle. Coaxing a horse to follow you into water can sometimes create quite a “battle”. (No, I don’t really battle horses, but that’s just a good descriptive term.)

Anyway, this photo is actually from the filly’s second day with water, but this is exactly what the first day was like:

No fear, no tantrums, no nothing. Just a calm, intelligent curiosity. Like I said, I’m head-over-heels in love with her. To make matters worse, my friend ACTUALLY OFFERED HER TO ME, COMPLETELY FREE, because she knows how taken I am with this filly. Saying no was was one the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I’m sure I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. but I just can’t afford a horse right now. Besides, I don’t have the time for a baby. There’s just no time between school and work. Julia from MoodSwingsinMedSchool…. I feel your pain. When will we ever friggin‘ graduate, and be able to satisfy our desire for a horse of our own? It feels like NEVER!

I don’t want to sell this filly. I don’t. I don’t want to market her, and I don’t want someone to buy her for the RIDICULOUSLY low price my friend is asking for her. Did you see her mane? Did I mention that it is equally full on both sides of her neck??? Have you ever seen a yearling with a mane this long? I haven’t.

I know it looks a little scraggly here, but I’d just brushed it out for the first time in months. This filly appears to be growing more mane than the Andalusian that lives in the nearby ranch. And since I usually spend at least half my time brushing and decorating my horses as if they were some kind of expensive Barbie… well… She’s made for me! She really is! And I just can’t afford her right now! Dag-freakin‘-nabit!

She’s greying out already, so by the time she’s two or three, she’s going to be white. A white horse with a luxurious mane and tale, one brown eye and one blue. Gorgeous. I know I sound incredibly shallow, but oh well. I just can’t help it… I’m totally gone on this little filly. Oh, and before anyone complains that she will be a “gray” horse rather than a “white”… I say “white” instead of grey, because she’s got so little actual color on her that even if she does go flea-bitten, it will hardly be noticeable. Her dam is a very finicky horse, and she passed it onto her daughter. They don’t roll in mud, and they even poop in a little pile in one corner of the stall. How cool is that?

And, since I actually have photos of mom and dad…. here you go.

Mom (Twistin Purrfectly)


Pleasure-horse jog… so well-trained, no hands needed:

Backing up:

Dad (RR Risky Rebel):

And, simply because I can….

Here’s a picture of Grandma:

So, there you go. Coming from intelligent stock like that, I know that this filly’s apparent intelligence, work ethic, and beauty is not going to fade.

If anybody reading this blog would like to suddenly donate a pasture for me to keep the filly in for the next two or three years, you’d be my all-time best friend! Or, for that matter… if anybody would like to give me a fair price for one of my kidneys, I’m up for that as well. I mean, I have two of them. Anyone? Any takers?


Musings on My Birthday

So. I turned twenty-six today. I’d like to say that I spent the day pondering the deep significance of another year gone, but in reality, I merely wandered around aimlessly. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I did manage to get some stuff done. I cleaned my room, spent some quality time with family, watched a movie with my wonderful stepdad, put away some laundry…. and spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, fretfully poking at the two gigantic PIMPLES which have taken up residence on my cheekbone.

Please trust me when I say they’re gigantic. For all of the fellow AdultAcne sufferers, you know what I’m talking about. There are pimples, and then there are PIMPLES. These are PIMPLES. I’m not really sure why they had to make their throbbing appearance on my birthday, but I’m sure there’s some sort of cosmic reason behind it all. Maybe God thought I was a little bit lonely, and that I needed some extra friends? If that’s the case, then I think He knew what He was doing. I’m actually finding myself growing attached to them (Har-Har-Har. Bad Pun.) There’s something riveting at watching them grow to their fully, somewhat majestic glory. It reminds me, somewhat, of the sick fascination I had watching the inevitable decay of Edward. I’m sure I could find a much better thing to spend my time obsessing about on my birthday, but I can’t seem to direct my attention elsewhere. It’s really quite sad.

I mean, shouldn’t I be thinking about my future? Where I’ve been? Where I’m going? Shouldn’t I be thinking about what I’m actually doing in my life that will last? What about contemplating my relationship with God, or the mistakes I’d like to avoid this upcoming year? Wouldn’t that be a beneficial, spiritual, character-building thing to think about?

Yeah, it probably would be. Buuuut, insteaaaad… Hmmm…. Is the right pimple getting bigger than the left pimple? It could be! Let’s poke at it some more!

Tampon Mice

I came home from work today to a lovely sight… In fact, the only way I can really think to describe it is with a really long, run-on sentence. So, here goes:

My kitten raided beneath my sink, pulled out a box of tampons (yes, yes, I know it’s not kosher to actually talk about those things… but oh well), removed a tampon from the box, removed the wrapper from the tampons, removed the absorbent cotton from the applicator, and finally chewed the cotton into fuzzy submission.

From what I can tell, she repeated this process WITH THE ENTIRE BOX OF TAMPONS. I believe she might have spent the greater part of the day artfully rearranging the tampons around my room. While I can certainly understand why she would be interested in them (they actually do kind of resemble the little catnip mice I buy her to play with), I still find it kind of disturbing to walk into my room and find my kitten delicately batting at the cotton “tail” on the end of her new “mouse”.

I’ve already picked up about six or seven of these things, and I have no idea where she’s stashing them. I can’t see a single tampon-mouse, but every time I assure myself that they are really, truly gone, I turn around and see her scurrying about with a fresh “kill”.

Of course, being me, rather than actually hunting down her secret stash, I think I’m just going to shut off my light and go to sleep.