Dear diary,
I am in such a good mood! I have NEWS — I have a new sharer. In fact not one, but two (which I’m sure is because I’m too awesome for one person to handle — a view that no-one else seems to share mind you).
In short, there was a mare at our yard last summer (readers of my diary when it was on the forum will remember I liked her a lot. Mainly because she thought I was marvellous and Hot Stepper was a fairy). She had a Mum, but also a lady and her daughter who were her sharing aunties. Well the mare had to leave and the lady and her daughter couldn’t share her anymore. To cut a long story short they got in contact with Mum and came to try me on Sunday. As they are only human they thought I was great and have agreed to share me. This is great news on many fronts:
Firstly, the daughter is a really good rider and is brave. In fact, Mum was heard commenting that there’s no more humbling an experience than watching someone ride your horse better than you do. I did refrain from pointing out that better riders than Mum can be seen every weekend — on the donkeys at the seaside. See diary, I am learning the difference between thinking something and actually saying it.
Because the daughter is brave, Mum has said she can jump me… Yipppeeeee! The daughter likes to jump and wants to do one-day events, which means only one thing. CROSS-COUNTRY! OK I have to put up with a small amount of poncing, but with a carrot of cross-country being dangled just watch me ponce! Flatlands Dorrito watch out — here comes Boglands Quaver! Now admittedly the daughter (my new Aunty T) is looking for her own horse to event, but, let’s face it, when you’ve had a bit of The Destroyer why would you look at any other pale imitation?
Mum has said that Aunty T can only cross-country me if she gets me fitter which just has to mean hacking as I’m too big to fit on one of those human hamster running devices. And I refuse to wear spandex… I like hacking and it’ll soon by stubble racing season. I cannot wait to show Aunty T that she does not need to be looking at these flighty, delicate little thoroughbreds. Oh no. Feather power is never to be underestimated.
On the other hand, the Mum (Another Aunty S) is not so brave. Which means lessons from the boss lady and quite a lot of boring schoolwork. Which is not so good BUT she’s a very kind and gentle person who cuddles me, kisses me, is very happy if I don’t let her fall off and has already asked Mum what treats I’m allowed. Ha! My kind of woman! I also predict if she asks me to do something and I look more confused than a squirrel buying “Nuts” magazine, she’ll decide I don’t know how to do it and give in.
Sadly mind-reader Mother of “no-fun-ville” also thought this and has told her everything I can do and not to believe my big brown melting eyes trick. Except she phrased it a little more along the lines of “underneath the Bambi like exterior is a lying toe rag, so give him a smack and tell him to man up”. Caring. That’s my Mother.
So basically I am now likely to be on an intensive keep fit campaign and trimmed back down to the size of a thoroughbred polo pony (on stilts), but if I get some jumping I’m very happy. Mum did say that she too will have to dig out her big brave pants and start jumping again. This is always a relief — the size of Mum’s brave pants means we’ve always got a parachute if things get hairy.
I leave you with this conundrum: if I’m a carthorse, why do I pee like a racehorse?
Yours confusedly,
Hovis
Cartoon by kind permission of Pilar Larcade
