It’s a frustrating fact of my life that I rarely have time to hang out with my horse, Bit. Despite the fact that his stable is only a short drive away, I miss many opportunities to see him. Bit never lets me forget how long it’s been since my last visit, though, so I thought I’d share a recent conversation I had with him.
“Hi, Bubby! How ya doin’?”
Who are you and where have you been?
“Come on, Bubby! Don’t be angry! I’m here now!”
It’s been forever, and I haven’t had a decent snack in years!
“Weeks, Bubby. It’s only been weeks!”
I’m sure it’s been longer.
“I was sick for a while, there, Bit.”
Don’t care.
“And there was some weather, as well.”
Don’t care.
“Well, I’m here now, so let’s go inside and I’ll make you pretty!”
Don’t wanna!
“I brought you a crunchy sweet apple!”
Gimme!
“Nope, not until we’re done.”
Don’t wanna!!
“Now, Bubby! You know all the mares go crazy when your mane and tail are combed to perfection!” At this point, he grudgingly lets me lead him inside, where I begin the process of cleaning him up.
“Jeez, Bubby, have you been rolling in your hay?!” Both his mane and tail were loaded with it.
I’m saving it for later, when I’m hungry.
“Bubby, you can’t reach your mane or your tail! So how, exactly, do you plan to access all this hay?”
As I brush him, he straightens his legs out in front of him, the better to enjoy a good stretch. It’s his way of letting me know that he’s bored, and wants to go back out. Then he starts pawing, to press the point home.
“Bub, you don’t have anything more important to do! Just chill, will ya?!”
I do, Kelly! The herd needs me!
“That’s funny, Bit, because it’s being very quiet out there, as though no one misses you!”
It’s my job, Kelly!
“I think you just like bossing them around and biting them on the bum! That’s what I think!”
It’s about this time in the grooming process where Bit decides to try to bite me. He’s not a mean horse, but he is an ornery one. I give him some major stink-eye.
“Don’t even think about it, Bit!” I stare him down until he looks away. Then I notice his back leg sort of hanging in mid-air.
“If you kick me, we’re done being friends!” I tell him, waggling an index finger in his face. “I have to be able to trust you, Bit!” He looks a bit down-cast here, as though I’ve denied him all his fun.
“I mean it,” I warn him. “If you kick me, I’m through with you, and I’ll take up with Big Paddy!” Big Paddy is our nemesis. At 20 hh, he’s a giant, four-legged wanker. Bit and I both hate him with a passion; he’s been nothing but trouble since he came to the stable. Telling Bit that he’d better behave, or else be tossed aside in favor of Big Paddy let him know I was serious.
“Wow, Bubby, just look at how pretty your mane is, now! The mares are all gonna say, We want to be Bit’s girl, he’s got the best mane! When I’ve finished all the brushing and combing, it’s time to pick his hooves.
I was fortunate to have started riding lessons, long ago, with a woman who insisted that I groom and pick hooves before I could get on the horse. It was good training, and taught me how to deal with horses who don’t want to give their feet. Apart from lesson horses who enjoyed testing me, no one has ever been a jerk about. With me, that is. There’s one horse at the stable who is such a creep that every time my friend Mandy goes to pick his hooves, he starts waving those back legs around and threatens to kick her every single time.
“What are you gonna do when he actually kicks you?” I once asked her.
“He won’t. He’s a good boy!” She replied.
“In what parallel universe is that horse considered good?” I asked. But I digress.
Bit has his own idiosyncrasies, when it comes to hoof picking, but I don’t think anyone has ever bothered to figure out why. When you’re asking for his near hind hoof, he’ll offer the one on his off side instead. He’s not being an ass, it’s that he has EPM, and the biggest symptom of that disease, at least with him, is balance. He worries about falling down, which is what used to happen – a lot – before he was treated for it. He still has balance issues, just not as bad as when he was younger. In offering me his other foot, he’s trying to comply with my request, whilst at the same time, maintaining his balance. His farrier doesn’t have the patience to think about things like that, but since I’ve been leasing Bit for ten years, I’ve figured out a few things. Back hooves and balance are one of them. I ask for that hoof, now, and he offers the other one.
“Nope! I want this one!” I tell him, tapping him on the leg that I want. He offers the other one again.
“No, Bubby! I want this one!” I tap the same leg again. He finally offers it, and I make sure to stand in a posture that won’t make him feel off-balance while I clean that hoof.
“Thank you, Bubby!” I tell him when I finish. He gives me the other three without issue.
If you think that, after all this, Bit would be glad to see the back of me, you’d be wrong. When I return him to the paddock, he stands at the gate, hoping for another snack. Usually, I raid the stable fridge and steal whatever I can find so that I can give him one more. Then I give him a last pat on the neck and promise to come back soon, at which point he usually says something along the lines of, Next time, bring all the apples! The greedy bugger!
“Right. I love you, too, Bit!”
