Wait, no, I don't mean you use your skirt to wrap the hoof. I mean sometimes you are wearing a skirt and you have to go wrap a hoof.
I had one of those absolutely craptastic days at work this week. No need to go into details, we've all had that moment at work where you find yourself getting reamed for something that has nothing to do with you and isn't your fault, which is equal parts infuriating and demoralizing. And when this pops up on your newsfeed, it seems like a great idea.
Oh yeah guys, it got that bad. I almost took life advice from Cosmo.
I got a call as all this nonsense was unfolding that Tucker's shoe was loose. I wasn't surprised, he took a chunk out of his hoof over the weekend (his hooves get soft in mud, despite my best efforts) and the nails were kind of clinging on for dear life for a few days. No big deal, he was just down to one nail on one side, so the shoe had shifted back a little. My new farrier is wonderful and agreed to come the next morning to reset it, but I wanted to wrap his hoof up so he didn't tear it off getting up from a nap or something.
So I cleaned up his hoof, and got to work (still in my suit and stockings from court) with my vetwrap and elasticon.
Sometimes at the end of a particularly stressful and annoying workday, you just need to be able to do one thing well, even if it's just wrapping a hoof. And damn did I do a fine job wrapping that foot. Pat me on the back and hand me a beer. Even though my dry-clean-only suit was not particularly conducive to snuggling, I was still grateful I had a horse to provide this small service.
The day after my day from hell I had the day from hell part deux, where I received a couple of follow-up lectures, one of which just about sent me over the edge. Once again, no need for detail, you all know the kind of lectures I'm talking about. The ones where you're staring at someone's cuff links regretting every life decision that brought you to this point, in this chair, in this office, on this day. I'm over it now. But yesterday was a tough one.
Once again, pony time is the best possible therapy. We welcomed a new boarder, and I went to pick him up yesterday evening. This is Wesley. He is adorable. Obvs.
Given that I had such a freaking disaster of a week, there was really only one solution. Bareback grazing under the stars and general shenanigans. I absolutely love that my horse can go from fancy-pants dressage horse to backyard bareback pony instantly.
|This was going to be a really cute photo but Tucker farted.|
|Ah, there we go.|
Oh and Jane! Where is Jane? Oh there she is. I did the teenager-style legs hanging down bareback thing at the trot and canter and it really helped! I kind of get what I'm supposed to do when I want to sit now! (Jane is so full of good ideas.)
|These are blurry. It's artsy. Deal with it.|
|Happy boys. Happy riders.|
Wes already thinks this is the best barn he's ever lived at. The humans sit on their horses and chat while the horses eat grass. Best humans ever.
I got home in a much better mood and was no longer the angry terrier that I was when I called Ethan on my way home in I-HATE-EVERYONE mode. He was waiting in the driveway with a head lamp to help me park and unhitch the trailer, and when I walked in the kitchen I was greeted with warm pizza and hard cider. Seriously. The only thing I like about him is everything.