I need to vent a little about my mother. I think she has lost her mind. Yes, that is right, I am worried about her sanity. Lately, she seems to speak in some sort of numerical and linguistic code. It could be that she just doesn’t want me to know what is going on, but I fear that she has been sipping a little too much of her adult grape juice. I will do my best to decipher her codes for you so you will understand the insanity that is my life and the start of show season.
“Two boards, Ike?” Apparently, pushing the fence boards aside to munch on the green grass on the other side is frowned upon at Ms. C’s farm. I really wasn’t planning to go anywhere; that really green grass just looked particularly tasty. I showed my displeasure about the repair by running circles around Mom. Just try to catch me!
“70th percentile for First Level.” At the first show of the year, my performance must have been pretty good. Mom had this cheesy smile on her face and kept hugging me in public (sigh, how am I supposed to look cool with that going on). This appears to be the expectation for all upcoming shows as well. We shall see if conditions are favorable. After all, a fellow is allowed to have an off day every now and again.
“Ride times are up.” This has something to do with when I will be expected to work at a licensed show. It made Dad do a face palm which I assume means that I will have a long couple of days. I just hope that this performance stuff does not interfere with mealtime…And speaking of mealtime…
“You only get half.” Half of my dinner that is. Mom likes to show up for a lesson at dinnertime. Seriously, the woman needs to better plan her days. None of the other horses have to cope with this withholding of meal rations. She even has Ms. C withholding food. They think I don’t know what they are doing, but I am fully aware of the size of my meal. And Mom wonders why I try to bite her sometimes. Payback, Mom, payback.
“60th percentile for Second Level.” Mom has introduced this terminology this spring. I am not sure what is on this so called Second Level. This boy is not getting on any elevator. It apparently involves Mom bouncing in her sit trot and me “engaging my hind end.” Umm, how am I supposed to do that? I can’t marry myself! I will have to pay better attention to figure out what this will mean for my free time. If my hunch is right, Ms. C and Mom are in cahoots to make me work even harder.
“We want 7’s and 8’s.” I want an apple. I am still trying to figure out why this matters.
“We got a 9!” Nine what? I certainly did not get nine apples or carrots. This numerical code is particularly difficult to crack.
“He moves more freely in that saddle.” Mom seems to think that this new saddle she is trying makes me move better. Not sure what is so free about my movement. Mom tells me what to do the entire time she is in the saddle. She disapproves when I break into a freestyle performance. She couldn’t stay on when I really broke free last year.
If anyone can help with the harder codes, I would greatly appreciate the help. Stop by my stall at the show or at the back fence at home and slip me a note when Mom isn’t looking. She is easily distracted so just yell, “Free wine!” and she will look. Trust me.
Until next time my friends!