Hudson on Happiness…

Dear Jane,

I’m totally onboard with our fitness plan.  I love to be super fit, love to go, love to show off my stamina.  Please do not take this as a “back off” letter.

I’m thrilled – and astonished – that we continued to workout through the Celebration of Carrots holiday. (I know humans call this season by a bunch of other names, but trust me, all equines know ’tis Season of Carrots.)

I heard you announce you were ‘going to get a photo of me looking happy, if it killed you’. Let me spell it out. Happiness is not all, “ears forward”.

Behold: I Am Happy…

Notice my muzzle is not visible.  The submerged muzzle is a key indicator to happiness in horses.

This IS my happy face. I can’t help it you know exactly what I’m thinking.

Where was I? Oh, right. Workouts.

You’re going to have to clip me.  Whole body. I know it’s not supposed to be 65 degrees at the end of December. Repeat after me: Climate. Change. I’m dying here.

I’d like a manly, flashy tattoo.  Motorcycle flames would rock.  (I need compensation for the ‘Dressage Horse’ thing.)

BTW, Shaun sent  me the photo of you wearing your new hat. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Now THIS is a donkey I can live with.

You kill me.  I thought DQ’s had no sense of humor…

Please send me Dinero’s email and chat ID.  I’m going to Skype on Bella’s computer. I heard Dinero is officially retired from roping (man oh man, I know how he feels).  I want to stay in touch. Plus, no one does innocent sarcasm like Dinero.  I need to have a buddy to help me rag on Woodward.

Please pass on to…Santa: a Mrs. Pasture’s Easy Bake Oven is a vital gift,  a life-altering gift.

A new turn out blanket? Superfluous. I don’t mind the drafty old one.



My Horse Leaves Instructions for Me With the Barn Manager

York Regional Road 55
Image via Wikipedia

Dear Jane,

The barn manager said you are sick again.  Get over it.  I need to do stuff.  Bring food.

Enough with the apples.  Hate.  Apples.  Smashing one and putting it in my grain does not make it more palatable.  It makes my grain harder to eat.  Annoying.

Get an iPod.  Download Enya.  Take Valium.  Drink that nasty smelling stuff those fox hunting people drink.  (Why anyone would want to drink liniment is beyond me, but it does seem to calm them down.)  Just please, please stop thinking so loud. And that whole plan-your-ride  dressage thing?  No one needs to think THAT far ahead.  Memorize a test, forget about it, cue me when it’s time.

Dinero does not deserve oats.  Give him the apples.  Give me the oats.

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