Blogger ate the final paragraph of my last post, about three sentences' worth. Because fever also bends the mind, I don't remember the words precisely as I wrote them. I'll just try to assume for now that they were smart, incisive and confidence-building. Why not.
But I do read what I write, and, looking at that post today, I mined from it these two things:
1 - All the other horses were outside and she was ticked off.
2 - Scout mindful that all the other horses were inside.
The one was the catalyst of her blow-up, the other the keeper of her calm. And this started me wondering: If Scout got everything she wanted, would I be able to ride her no-drama confidently? What would that be like; I mean, what parameters would Scout set? Well, I'm just fever-warped enough to try thinking about it from her point of view...
Hi, Scout. Hey, pony. Let's go riding tonight.
busy happy being with the horses right now, thanks.
Come on. Just a short ride, nothing fancy (like we ever do fancy.)
Don't want to, but it's not like I hate you or anything. I love you, bringer of carrots. Say, could you pull those bits of ice off my whiskers?
We could both use the exercise, you know.
Yes, you could. I see that. Well, you can ride me right here in the dry lot, then. It will be nice to walk along the fence. You can have your "ride" and I can monitor my herd.
In here? I thought we'd ride to the south pasture, just over there.
we you do that? I can't see the herd from there. I'll jig, you know, and scream out. I'll go spooky on your ass. I'll have to rush and brace. Here is best. We can even trot a little, k? I do like that bendy-stretchy thing you do. My neck gets heavy reaching down to eat all day.
So I'll keep noshing hay while you get the grooming box and the saddle and bridle. I love that grooming, by the way. K, an hour for grooming, 10 minutes tack up, and then food time at six means hey, we've got, like, eight minutes. Yay! Let's go riding! I'm so glad you asked.
( . . . )
( . . . )
And I'll go take my temperature now.