I am so angry I could just spit, if horses could spit! Kim got up on the wrong side of the bed, obviously. Where did this sudden emphasis on manners come from? I mean, we’ve had an agreement: I do what I want, when I want at the speed at which I want to do all this, and she stays on. If she can. At least I don’t actively and consciously try to get rid of her, even if she has gained weight. Cow. But today we worked in the field (I don’t have back shoes, and chubby finally noticed I prefer the softer ground to the ring. Hellooooo? She’s the witch that took them off in the first place, what was she thinking???), and outside means Gator makes the rules, right? GATOR. That’s me. Slow, bend, round? When we are outside? Nuh uh. No way I’m letting her pull that kinda nonsense. If I let her get away with that, pretty soon she’s gonna ask me to go slow, too. I was a racehorse, by Dog, and speed is my middle name! Oh! I could just! Mph!!!!!
Editor’s note: Gator has just taken off to have a good, cranky buck at the top of the hill. Conversation to be continued later.