I seriously don’t know WHAT I have done to deserve this woman. I mean, come on! She dresses me up like I’m a blasted My Little Princess Pony with no regards to what I want or like. She insists on riding me with her ever-expanding, vast backside when she knows her that her lard butt is too heavy for my delicate bone structure. She embarrasses me in front of other foxhunters when she can’t figure out how to keep her inept self in my saddle or how to keep her trap shut. And now she is encouraging my peeps, my girls who I take great pride in teaching, how to treat me like a toy. A little girlie-girl’s toy. With rainbow hair and sprinkle farts. Sigh. I really need to figure out how to ditch this Wench.
This week she arrived at the barn holding something in her hand, and she was bouncing. Bouncing! I was afraid it was another earthquake until I saw her, and realized that it was her banging her fat feet into the ground. [Gretchen’s Note: Okay, okay. I get it. You are depressed because another season is over, and that means that you are just that much older and wider. You can take it out on me. I don’t mind. Really. Cutie-pie. ]
Oh, for the love of Pete – I AM NOT “CUTE”!
She giggled this annoying way the entire time that my Michaela, my girl who I took over her first hunt coop last season, tacked me up while the other girls tacked up their ponies. All the girls were giggling about something. I rolled my eyes and ignored it, but I should have been more wary. I was stupid to assume that the Scarlet Wench wasn’t up to something evil, horrible and soul-scarring. I shall never recover. [Gretchen’s Note: Well, I did take the stirrups off the saddles of the other riders that day. And the other girls were calling me evil names for it. So I’ll cop to that, but “soul-scarring”? I’m not sure that I could get to your soul though all the layers of blubber fat you have enveloping you. Especially now with the spring grass growing strong.] This is all muscle, Wench. What you see is muscle and awesomeness. [Gretchen’s Note: You are delusional. I had to get out the girth extender that day, Mr. Delicate Bone Structure.] I’m so ignoring you.
After Michaela got up in my saddle, I was prepared to take her down to the arena when the Wench took out whatever she had brought down to the barn with her that day. She put it on my head. More giggles erupted. It was an ear bonnet. Hand crocheted to look like a… a…. fox. Oh please, will someone save me from her? [Gretchen’s Note: It was absolutely adorable!! You had little foxy ears, with cutsie, widdle eyes and the big black nose right one your forehead. You will be wearing this for Staff Cubbing - Aren’t you excited?]
Oh, hell no I’m not wearing that out hunting! This has gone too far! Isn’t there a number to call out there to get rid of idiot owners? There is a number to call if the owners don’t feed their horses, why not for owners who don’t respect their horse’s dignity?! [Gretchen’s Note: You just try to call any kind pony rescue numbers on me, Mister. I know what you and the girls did to my tack room the weekend before I got the foxy ear bonnet. You let the girls in the tack room, didn’t you? You helped them explode a “Justin Beiber, The Idiot” bomb all over my tack room. I saw the hoof prints on the Beiber Banner strung up across the doorway. I saw your slobber on the Beiber Balloons strewn EVERYWHERE. I saw the pony hairs stuck in the Beiber-faced duct tape used to tape everything up. And as for the poster filled with nothing but that Idiot’s face with little hearts drawn all over them –I know your artwork. The girls love to torment me with the face of that Beidiot. And for that I took their stirrups away. But you, my widdle Ziggy-wo? You get to wear the foxy ear bonnet. Yep. Staff cubbing. And the hounds will see – LOL!]
I will NOT wear that crappy thing out hunting. There are a few months between now and then. And I happen to know a barn cat who is still smarting from you holding her up and forcing her to “sing and dance” show tunes for your amusement. Cats love to eat yarn. Yep – I have a plan. And that foxy ear thingy is going to get accounted for one way or another this summer! [Gretchen’s Note: I know the lady who made this bonnet; Brianne Reynolds posted it on Facebook and Etsy. I can always get another one from Brianne if this one happens to go missing. Staff Cubbing, here we come!] The Wench is going down the next creek crossing. I swear it.
Ziggy Pelham, a Very Resourceful Hunt Horse Who Will Never, Ever Wear Cutsie Foxy Ears!