Due to time off for boo-boos (hers and mine), The Sainted mare has not been working very hard of late. The lack of exercise has taken its toll, and Madame Mare has become increasingly stout plump portly zaftig fuller- figured.
With her health in mind, an executive decision was made to put The Sainted One on a diet. Needless to say, Sug is not pleased about her decreased caloric intake, and she has been stating her opinions on Operation Sugar Reduction quite vociferously.
Sug has always been a bit of a treat whore beggar, but since the onset of her diet she’s gotten worse. Where once she’d rumble a low nicker when I entered the barn, hoping for a carrot, now she trumpets forcefully, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she NEEDS A CARROT – STAT!
In the past, when other riders would walk past her on the cross ties, she’d stand up to her full height and cock her head, putting on her “treat face.” Now she does the whole routine, but adds impact with full throated nickers designed to let all passers by know of the ill treatment she’s been forced to endure. She’s basically morphed into me when I’m stressed and desperately in need of of a chocolate fix. If she had opposable thumbs and the ability to drive I’m sure I’d find her in her stall downing spoonfuls of peanut butter followed by Hershey’s syrup chasers.
Yesterday I brought a plastic shopping bag carrying a pail of electrolytes to the barn and left it on my tack trunk. Sug heard the noise of the bag and went into high alert mode; she knows that crinkly plastic bags often harbor yummies! When I walked her over towards the grooming stalls and paused at my trunk to get my grooming kit, she saw her opportunity and took it, grabbing the bag in her teeth like a great white shark grabs a seal. She dragged at the bag, sending the pail full of electrolytes toppling to the floor. Did this give her pause? Heck no. She bit the pail, testing it much like the shark would test potential prey, and, like the shark, leaving evidence in the form of a big bite mark behind. She then moved on to prod at the bag, absolutely certain that she’d find treats inside that. When she didn’t, she took a hopeful peek around and inside my trunk.
My son Noah was able to get some of her antics on video ( I tried, but apparently am too technologically inept to press the correct button. Sigh.).
When her efforts proved fruitless, Sugar left me in no doubt of her feelings about the matter.
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