Yep. I kinda hadda feelin' it might be a "not so wonderful day" when I got to work this morning and saw the dead colt on the lawn...

And, I was correct in that premonition/feeling.

This makes the fifth dead horse I've seen with my own two eyes in my life.
Don't wanna see no more, thanks.

The very first one was really just a skeleton.
He was Old Bill or John, I forget which, a horse that my Uncle Henry had had for years. He was beyond working anymore, so he was just retired to pasture... til the drunk old bastard down the road shot him.

Nobody knew why, the drunk old prick denied it of course and Uncle Henry (apparently) didn't see any need to disturb the poor old dead guy, so he left him lay.

Years later, I'm out fartin' around waaaay out in the backest back pasture, down by the stream, when I find this big-assed skeleton.
Figured out it was a horse, told Uncle Henry and he told me the story.

The second dead horse I saw was a saddle bronc at Cowtown rodeo named Mr. Moore. He came outta the chute, did his thing and then slammed full tilt boogie into the chute gates and did a back flip and broke his neck.
The cowboy was fine.
They loaded the quite obviously dead horse onto a skid and drug him outta the arena while the stupid announcer was lying his balls off to the equally insipid crowd about how Doc Gemberling was being called and would be right over to attend to the horse.
Well... unless Doc Gemberling was JESUS, there wasn't shit he was gonna do for Mr. Moore. You could hear his neck snap when he landed, fer piss sake.
As a side note, that was my first night barrel racing in a rodeo and I pulled my horse up way before I should have, but I just couldn't go runnin' full speed toward those bucking chutes after what Mr. Moore had just done.
Whatever.

The next dead horse was another Grant Harris special.
This one had died out in the pasture, next to a manmade pond down the road from Grant's estate house and I went back and told him about it.
He seemed highly unimpressed and if I remember correctly, it took him a coupla/few days to get around to taking care of it.
Dick.

Between this horse and the next one I saw die, it was several years and there were a few horses I knew of who died, but far enough removed from me to just be of passing interest, not heartbreak.

The next one who died, died in my arms.
That would be Gia, the 30 year old App I had back in Bucks and I lay her death at the feet of the fuckhead who owned the farm. He was the one who insisted she be moved outta the field that actually had grass in it too soon, thereby denying her the time and opportunity to gain the weight she needed to make it through the winter and sure enough, we lost her in February.

Storm came after she died.
He died too.
But... I refused to look at him dead.
Glad I did, too.
I still can't hear certain songs without it killing me all over again, so I know if I'da looked at him dead, I'd be dead by now.

My latest and hopefully LASTEST dead horse was today... Boo was his name.
He was a year and half or so old and he was fine three days ago.

Two days ago, around 4/4:30 pm, he started acting colicky and looking sick.
Mr & Mrs Boss did what they knew to do and the next morning, called the vet, as what they did didn't change him much.
The vet comes, tubes him, flushes his stomach, gives him about 90 different meds to be given and leaves.

Less than an hour later, Boo was back to pawing HARD, laying down- NOT TRYING TO ROLL- and getting up and just looking miserable. He even shit a few times, so we knew it wasn't "just" colic.

They continued with what Doc #1 told them to do through the night and this morning, by the time I got there, he was laid out flat on the lawn. I walked up to him just in time for his last two breaths.

Fuckin' great.

They'd put him down. This vet said he was beyond hope. Some kind of intestinal anomaly.
Mrs Boss took his body to some place around here that does necropsies and she should know by tomorrow at the latest what killed him.

So, that sucked.
Really bad.

On toppa which, my missing little terrorist buddy finally found his way back.
He started to come last month but saw the arsonist-cunt-from-hell was already here and, apparently felt intimidated and totally outclassed and fled for the month.

I was wondering what was up widdat.

Now I know.

NOW, my ankles are just plain FAT, I feel bloated like a full tick hangin' on a dog, my clothes ain't fittin' for SHIT, my head hurts, my shoulder hurts, my attitude has tanked and I don't feel any need to take on any more shit.
Right?
Right.
(Well, I DON'T.)

UNFORTUNATELY.... I'd made a comittment to go to a farmer dinner/thing with Eric tonight.
All I can say is:

Oh.
Mah.
Gawd.

If anybody EVER invites you to one of these deals, first do WHATEVER is necessary to get outta going, then try to find out whatcha did to piss 'em off so bad they'd wanna do that to ya.

These "meetings" are so fulla thee most BOOOOORING "speakers", it's damned near unbelievable.

If I ever hear anybody ever again utter the phrase "impact fees" within my earshot, I'mina "shot" them, I swear.

And, I don't know who the contentious prick in the black suit was, but I want his ASS! ON A PLATTER!!!! SHREDDED!!!!!!!
That argumentative cocksucker made that stupid shit last an hour longer than it should have. Had to argue, question and bitch about EVERYTHING.
I hate him now.

This is an improvement, by the way.
Hour and a half ago, I wanted to kill him in front of God and everybody.

So.
Wake up to a dead yearling colt.
Then, be havin' the period from hell.
Feel like a full tick from bloat.
Have an additional four hee-uge piles of crap to shovel outta the barn alleyway, besides the normal 17 (%$#!!@#!!) stalls fulla shit to clean.
Get home, hafta "do" a full set of nailtips for the night's festivities.
Have to wear "real" clothes that all feel two sizes too small, including a sports bra you feel sure yer gonna hafta be cut out of by the Jaws of Life (as opposed to sweats) to a dinner function with boring assed, long-winded, mostly monotonous, braindead speakers that drags on for just over four hours.

Then... see if you don't feel like smackin' the taste outta somebody's mouth.

And, by the way... it's not just my period talkin' about that prick in the black suit.
He was pissin' lotsa people off.
Some other old man got up, pointed at him and yelled at him about his stupid shit after the second or third time he started it.
I hadda restrain myself to keep from cheering Old Fart #2 on.
Thought he was gonna have a "spell" he was gettin' so het up at this fool.

And, that's another thing.... these are "family affairs", meaning everybody who has 'em brings the kiddies.
'Caaaause they get so much outta this shit and enjoy it soooo fuckin' much, right?

NO.

It's so the ADULTS can color and use the markers and play with the cars and other toys insteada having to be subjected to actually having to pay attention to the endless droning that goes on... and on and on and on and on.

This makes the second practical use for kids that I've ever seen.
The first one is: take one with you when you have to do something unpleasant, like going to the main DMV office for your state for a stupid hearing to getcher license back.
Normally, those turdburglers'll make ya wait forEVER to get in and git the shit done with.

Not so if you have a screeching baby with you.

You take a screeching baby and they'll have you in and out so fast you won't even mind having had to go in the first place.
This I know.
This I did once.

Think the next time I get shanghied into one of these damnable dinners*, I'm gonna take my Play-Doh, crayons and coloring books.
I'll just say, "Oh DAMN. Forgot the kid again, man..." and leave it at that.
Least that way, I won't be bored to hairlessness.
Again.

(*Actually, the dinners themselves, as well as the company we go with, are both quite enjoyable. It's when the numbnuts brigade takes over that it starts to go to hell in a hurry...)

And, now I'm at the point where it's either: go get another cuppa coffee or go to bed.

Think I'm gonna opt for "go to bed".
I've had about alla this stupid day that I can take.

Peace y'all.

Posted by: Stevie at 11:45 PM

Comments

Posted by: Mary at March 31, 2006 12:33 PM (i7Zqh)

Posted by: Joan at April 01, 2006 10:29 PM (y6n8O)

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