Over the years I've spent living near them, I've come to the conclusion that horses are like people in a lot of ways. Some broodmares, in particular, are very ladylike. And others are, how shall we say, not-so-much. Take, for example, this little scene I came upon the other day.
Here we have young George, a sweet and gentle puppy, just minding his own business.
When up walks Ms. Grey Broodmare, wondering what the black and white is doing at her favorite itching post.
"Yeah, sonny boy, watch yer eyes there now.
Ah gots me some scratchin' ta do."
"Hey, little one, stick next to yer momma here now. While ah. Ah . . .
Oh, yeah. There. Yeah. Right there. Oh, yeah baby."
(I cannot stand when they speak in this manner. I want to go over and cover George's ears.)
"Oh, yeah, mah achey breakey ass.
Yeah, oh daddy. Right there. Oo. Ooo. Ooo."
"This is gotta be the best damn post I ever had. Wow, whattapost. Yeah. Oh, yeah."
(This is enough to make me sick. Yet she continues her bleating song.)
Hot damn. That was a good'un. Yeah. Oh, yeah daddy. Now where's that youngun' o mine?
(The stuff you hear on this farm. My ears are burning.)
And George covered his ears on his own.
Disclaimer: No prescription drugs were used during the writing of this post.