It’s a Boy! Barbie Foals…

The surest way to induce labor: have one of the people committed to being there (me) call Daisy to tell her I have a sudden unavoidable conflict for the next night. We know Barbie is not ready, so we’re not worried.

Yup. Instant labor.

Luckily, I was already in my car at 3:20 am this morning when my conflict evaporated and Daisy called to say Barbie was foaling. Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of my God foal. Delivery was fast from time she went down. 6 minutes? But seemed more painful than usual.  (I’m reporting.  I wasn’t there for her foaling.) The vet is going to check her out, but isn’t concerned.

He’s huge bay colt packed with PopeyeK chrome and bone. He’s gorgeous. Easily over 100 lbs. My guess is 150. (I gauge everything by how many feed sacks it equals. He’s a 3-sacker.) Hard to tell if he’ll go red bay or darker, it will be fun to see. He looks slightly chestnut (orange for the non-horsey) in the photos, but not in life.  Here ya go…

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Bella pointed out he’s a Cinco de Mayo baby.  Happy Cinco de Mayo!


Mommy to Be is still Being, Dang It!

I know we’re all chanting BAAAby BAAAby Baaaaby!

She’s driving us nuts. All indications are: I’m going to lose the baby pool.  I chose today as her delivery date, she has 30  minutes to produce. (Yes, I am counting the seconds.)

Latest photo update: Her Royal Bulkiness rolling

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Her turnout is (deliberately) right next to the pasture where the mares and foals are turned out together.  She’s starting to hang out and watch the moms and babies. So we did too.  They were hilarious.

All the current foals are boys…

And the youngest:

Update on the clipping of foals: I asked why.  My guess was right (shocking, I know!), since they are Arabians at a breeding/show barn, the babies are clipped to show facial features, head and neck. Seeing a more accurate color is a bonus of clipping. Potential buyers can see accurate face, ear, neck detail, immediately.

Barbie’s Jail Journal

Day 338: I don’t know what I’ve done. I’ve been removed from my big paddock – in which there is grass – and as much mud as a pampered girl like me needs. Forget facials. I like full-body mud treatments. I doubt my roomate Angel got me evicted, she liked me. Plus, how many clunky draft horses get to room with super models?

I stare at the four walls.  Bars on the windows. Lock on the door. I’m not the only horse in this…jail. Can’t talk to other inmates, or I’d ask why I’m in lock up. Must be a women’s prison.  Only mares.

Day 339: Thoroughly enjoyed torturing Daisy.  I paced all night and sweated up a storm! Ha. I look like I’ve dropped 100 pounds.  She doesn’t need to know it’s an optical illusion. I hope it will make her put me back on grass.

Day 341: Gave up pacing.  Boooooring. Fine.  I’m inside.  No one will tell me what is going on. The mare across the way got a new roommate overnight, like IN her cell. I suppose there’s enough room.  The new horse is a midget. Phew. The mare stinks.

Day 345: I get to go out in the “exercise yard” during the day, but only if it’s not raining. What?  Like I haven’t lived in rain my whole life?  What is it about humans?  Did they all look up at the sky and nearly drown as children?  They’re rain phobic.

Day 347: They put a mare and a midget in the paddock next to mine.  I pinned my ears and charged them.  So? I was bored. My hooves need to be done. I can’t stand not having them filed properly. Where’s the farrier?

Day 350: Geeze, visiting hours in this place are sooo random. I get no one for a whole day, then ten people show up (I don’t even know them all) and want to visit. And they all talk like I’m terrific. If I’m so terrific, why am I in lock up?  Next time I get out? Gonna pick the warden’s pocket, call Hudson.  He’ll get me out.

Day…Oh who knows: Auntie Jane shows up in the mornings now, and I get outside visiting privileges.  I thought only my mom had those.  Auntie Jane appears to be obsessed with grooming, but god knows I could use some of that in here.  Helllooooo….Supermodel Princess mistakenly locked up! I tried to politely communicate the mistake by staring in the direction of my paddock. She took me that way to eat grass. She’s slow, but good hearted. Then she tried to walk me back to jail!! Um. No.  (Humans. So dense.) I yanked her off her feet, and started walking leisurely back to paddock. Did it get through? NO. Back to the cell. Simpletons.  They’re all simpletons.

Day…Whenever Hudson wrote me: I’d want to stay in here?  Copy of myself? What the heck is he talking about?!? Babbling on about geldings standing around.  Of course they’d stand around.  I’m beautiful.  Normal. He said  he’d come get me if I still wanted him to…but now I want to know why he thinks I should be here. Plus. Um. Mom is bringing in whole bags of grain every day.  I get to eat as much as I want. At this point, I kinda don’t care if it’s a ruse to keep me quiet.  It’s Sweet Feed. Yum.

Day Yesterday: My private doctor came by.  Thank god.  She knows I don’t belong in jail. She said “…probably next week..” so I’m guessing that’s when I get out. I wonder if I can get mom to keep up the 25 lb bags of grain outside? She also told me, which I know, but is nice to hear again, that I look pretty. Of course I do.  I’m me.

Day 364: Auntie Jane said, “it’s day 364” like that’s some big deal. Whoopdeedoo.

Whoa, she talks a LOT when she is grooming. This is sad: I think she’s losing connection with reality.  Or her eyesight is going. Instead of talking to my ear?  She’s talking to my stomach.  How weird is that? She told my stomach tomorrow is the big day – whatever that means – but whenever I felt like it would be fine.

Tomorrow is day 365, which has some sort of mystical meaning for the bipeds.  I wonder if I will get 2 bags of grain tomorrow.  They usually celebrate Impossible to Understand Events with food. If the events weren’t so random (their events are TOTALLY random, you never know when one is coming.) I might be able to figure this out.

God, I just want a good roll, a mud bath, pedicure, maybe teeth whitening? And my personal servants to shine me up.  I think it’s that time of the month.  I’m all bloated. Yuck.

Adventures in Goat Burgling

I don’t get to call myself a cat burglar.  My B & E doesn’t pad on quiet little paws. My B & E clip-clops.  I’m about as unobtrusive as a goat.  (I had a busy week: 2 break-ins.)

Breaking and Entering #1

I text Daisy.

Jane: r u home yet?

Daisy: sadly, no.  dr. appt.

Jane: Great.  btw, I’m going to do a B & E on your house.

Daisy: do I care?  (Not that it matters, you can break in whenever you want)

Jane: nah.  you’re fine with it.  I need you not to be home.

Daisy:  ok.  mammo takes @ hour, errands, then home…long enough?

Jane: Yup.  have fun getting mashed.

Daisy: the joy is killing me.

Jane: planting subliminal msg:  you are gonna be real hungry or real thirsty for something COLD when you get home.

Daisy:  ???  Normal?

Jane: hoisting crowbar, singing hi ho hi ho it’s off to work we go…

Daisy: NO CROWBAR (right?)

Continue reading “Adventures in Goat Burgling”

Start Knitting…

I’m with Daisy, and she picks up her cell phone when it rings.

I hear her say: “No, I can’t do Saturday, we’re getting pregnant Saturday.”  Pause.  “Me, Bella and Jane are going.”  Another pause. “Near U. C. Davis”   Daisy holds the phone away from her ear, looking annoyed.  “Uh-huh, well, I gotta go.  I’ll talk to you later.”

I can only imagine what the non-horse person on the other end of the line thought.

“You did that on purpose”, I say, mildly.

“What?” says Daisy.

WE are getting pregnant on Saturday?”, I say.

“Oh. SHIT.”, says Daisy, furiously punching cell phone buttons.

Continue reading “Start Knitting…”