While the horses may not especially enjoy the cold weather,
I’m guessing the feeling is mutual when it comes to anyone caring for outdoor pets right now.
(And for the record, she’s making that face because I won’t let her come inside. Petulant little thing).
The neverending battle against mud is one thing… but traipsing out into the brrr to serve dinner and break ice in the water buckets can leave you chilled.
Oh, I mean, if your hose hasn’t frozen over… if it has, then the added joy of hauling warm water from the house by small buckets will make your horse love you forever.
Or just stare at you in confusion as her trough steams in the snow. Whatever.
I apparently have made an enemy out of yet another inanimate object (lest you forget about last year’s coffee table that attempted to maim me – and the fact that I’ve been too embarrassed to tell y’all that the same blasted piece of furniture just destroyed my kneecap again two days ago. I’m limping right now y’all).
So I’m dragging my bum leg outside in the pitch black to throw my nickering girl some hay. I am totally not admitting that I wore Mr. Daddy’s redneck hat/flashlight combo so that I could see past my feet. I run around the stall and turn the hose on to fill my beloved horse’s water bucket.
She is eyeball deep in a haypile and completely ignores my freezing butt standing a few feet away in a downpour (without a redneck hat/flashlight combo… we clear?)
I pull the hose out after seeing a few leaves swirling in the bucket and decide to dump ‘em. (I didn’t see those leaves with a redneck hat/flashlight combo. I’m a city girl, savvy?)
When I slipped the hose back into the clean bucket… the thing came to life and attacked me.
I kid you not, the thing rose straight up out of the bucket and launched skyward.
Shooting a massive spray of water that beautifully drenched the non-redneck-hat/flashlight-combo-wearing girl all over her right side.
With my catlike reflexes (you know, those instincts that help me NEVER to get hurt in dumb ways?), I lunged for the
weapon hose just as it whipped around again.
And I kid you not… as my hand wrapped around that little punk, I realized instantly that the most improbable thing had just occurred…
That sucker had launched itself six inches up my right sleeve and was wedged snugly halfway up my elbow.
Gushing freezing water. With all the tenacity of a fire hose with an inferiority complex.
While my coat sleeve just kept right on holding it in like a good little lined jacket.
Seven hours later, I’m still buddying up to the fireplace.
Didn’t even look up to see what all the screaming was about.