I have yet again taken over Mom’s blog. She has had a really busy week at work and with family obligations, so she hasn’t had a lot of spare time to ride. It really doesn’t bother me all that much that she hasn’t been riding, but I do miss seeing her since she always takes the time to talk to me and scratch my neck. She worries that we haven’t had time to practice our dressage tests for the show this weekend. I already know what to do, so I don’t exactly know why she is all uptight. Afterall, we are doing the same tests that we did at the Bayberry show. I’m pretty sure that we did well since Mom had a big smile on her face when she saw my scores and the ribbons. She is so easily pleased – makes my life easy as well.
While I have control of the blog, I also need to set the record straight on why I have been taking off while Mom is riding me. I know what she told you, but Mom is wrong. I have just been trying to show her my technique for running away from the big flies. People call them horse flies, but I think that is a bit of a misnomer. We horses do NOT like them at all. Those flying tanks are not my friends. They should be called anti-horse flies since they seem dead set against me enjoying my time outdoors. Those flies know exactly where to land so that I can not swat them away with my tail or brush them off with my mouth. I have 4 very itchy bites in the middle of my back that just won’t go away. Mom puts medicine on them, but they still hurt like the dickens. My friends and I try to buck them off, but those flies are pretty good riders and have the ability to hold on for dear life. We also try rolling while they are clinging to us, but they are quick and always seem to avoid getting squished. I have resorted to running as fast as I can to get away from them. I’ve told Mom that if she can stay on my back that I will save her from the flies as well. If she falls off, then she is on her own.
I did remind Mom that if she’d given me a screened in paddock for my one year anniversary present then I wouldn’t have to resort to running. She mumbled something about money, but I’m not sure what money is or why it should matter. My brother told me that he tried eating money one time (a flat, grass-green thing with the number 50 on it), but he was unimpressed with the texture and flavor. I say isn’t my comfort and well being more important than money? Perhaps I can start a petition to get my screens…anyone want to sign it?