Imagine me sitting here, listening to the earworm:
There’s a hoof in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza.
There’s a hoof in the bucket, dear Liza, a hoof.
& wishing I was creative enough to come up with words to the rest of the verses.
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Gratuitous Kitten Picture
(Good taste prevented me dragging out the camera.)
Before she came to live with us, our German Shepherd had several litters. She has regained her figure but retains a few attributes of her maternal past. Recently, one of the kittens has been experiencing species confusion. I’ll let your imagination do the rest. Snaps to the dog for bearing it with fortitude.
Bad steps are contagious. After Mathilda’s adventure Sunday evening, Rodney was off Monday morning. We suspect he is mildly footsore but having horse histrionics over it. The lunging he has been doing has been proof of concept more than work: halter, no tack, short, mostly walk, microscopic amount of trotting. OTOH, who are we to judge, it’s his foot.
The bad news is, first, he hurts – which is never nice. Second, he’s barefoot now, so he will need front shoes before he does any more work. Or what might pass for work if you squint. Third and long-term, he’s going to be a princess about his feet.
The good news is his attitude. Previously when he was off or ill, he would act jumpy and scared of us. Now, he’s mooching around outside of Mathilda’s pen projecting as much pitiful as possible, “Mop my brow. Sing Soft Kitty.” In general he is calm, trusting us to fix his owie, and sucking up as much bedside attention as we can dish out. It could be an reflection of his preference for warm weather [Frightful] or, just possibly, actual progress in getting through to him.
Two horses, two lamenesses, is anyone surprised?
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Gratuitous Kitten Picture
Over the weekend, we finally let Mathilda graze on her own for a few minutes each day. Granted we were both hovering close by, grain buckets at the ready should she decide to get silly.
The goal is to get her less labor intensive. Ironically, this routine means more work for the moment. Hand-grazing requires one semi-distracted individual to follow her about on the end of a leadrope. When I’m watching her at liberty, I dare not get absorbed in a book. I don’t want the first notice of gonzo-mare to be the wind of her passage.
The other downside is that I got to see her from the back & see how crooked she walks. Way better than this spring, but still shocking. I’m usually up front & don’t get to see that angle.
She ate. She came back in. Hubby & I survived the anxiety overload. Slowly we make progress, hoofstep by hoofstep.
….
And then in an unrelated incident, she takes a bad step & is off. Phooey, phooey, phooey, phooey, phooey!
I’ve shown you lots of pretty pictures lately and haven’t angsted at you for a while. Time to remedy that.
While I was out of town, Hubby took Rodney for a spin on the lunge line. He – the horse, not the hubby – farted and fussed as you would expect from a horse used to a life of leisure. However, Hubby thought Rodney’s back was much softer. He didn’t have faith in all the woo-woo things I had been doing, but now he had to admit they were having an effect. There were even brief glimpses when Rodney was relaxed and possibly willing to listen. Time to go back to work.
I should be excited.
My reluctance could be a protection from further disappointment. A natural enough response but it feels more than that. If Rodney became a reformed character overnight all I can see are an endless slog of tack fittings, 20-meter circles, and crossrails w/o stirrups. All so I can get up at o-dark-silly to tangle his mane into knots, cart him off to a dustbowl of a showgrounds, and show until I’m so hot my brain melts. It feels as if I am contemplating a dive into a vast sea of pointlessness.
When I have time after our busy show season, I will reread this and & wonder what all the stewing was about. However, one of the aims of a daily blog is to record what one is feeling moment to moment. What I’m feeling at the moment is weary.
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Gratuitous Kitten Picture
Broom or cat toy? You decide.
First, because of the overplay of the little girls & horsies mythos, which is a whole separate rant.
Second, because we often refer to Rodney as MLP, in part ironically due to his size, but also because, in his heart, he wants to be Someone’s Little Pony.
Finally, in a gesture of Brony solidarity. (Bro+Pony)
I’m a fan of the show, but not a Fan. I’ve seen the first season and intend to watch the rest, probably more than once. Upper-case Fans get involved in fan art, videos & conventions. However, I do build with LEGO bricks. I get involved in LEGO fan builds, videos, & conventions. Therefore, I have a fellow feeling for getting funny looks for playing with a kid’s toy. I understand being told that your hobby belongs to users of the opposite restroom. Fortunately, Brick Chicks escape the accusation of having designs on little boys. [article on Brony Fandom in Wired.]
MLP has been around since the 80s. The current version, Friendship is Magic, is the 4th generation. When this generation was completely reimagined by Lauren Faust, she deliberately added elements to entertain the parents when they watched with their kids. Why are we surprised that adults appreciate the result?
Okay, it’s an obsession. How is it different from tail-gating every football game of a given team, from building exquisitely detailed model train layouts, or even from spending all one’s time and money fussing with a form of archaic transportation? As long as everyone stays on the correct side of the legal/moral line, what does it matter to me where another person draws the taste/sense line? As long as they don’t do it in the street and frighten the horses, who is hurt?
While one hour-long panel is hardly in-depth research on the Brony phenomenon, from the Dragon*Con venue, I’m going to assume that the audience represents the serious Fan. If I had to rate the tone of the room, I would place it closer to intelligent sweetness than to world-weary sarcasm. Is that so bad? Does the world need more cynicism?
Adult MLP Fans know the reception they receive from the outside world, even at Dragon*Con where I would have expected more acceptance. The halls of the Hyatt & Marriott & Sheraton & Hilton & Westin hotels were stuffed with folks whom the rest of Atlanta would judge as having an odd kick to their gallop, yet I still got the fisheye when I told folks I had been to a MLP panel.
However, inside the room, there was no bunkered us-vs-them mentality among the SRO crowd of men and women. If there was any recognition of the outside world, it was a glance of mild pity, along the lines of, ‘Gee they don’t know how much fun this is.’ At least, that’s how I saw it. This undoubtedly says as much about me as it does about Bronies & Pegasisters.
Still freaked-out? Please try watching one. I’m not asking you to put on a Rainbow Dash wig and attend BronyCon. Just watch one, behind closed doors where no one has to know. I think you will be at least mildly amused. Bro Hoof!
Imagine me sitting here, listening to the earworm:
Virtual Brush Box 