We teach children to tame and ride wild horses. We promote natural horsemanship,natural horse care,and natural hoof care. We do so in a very affordable manner.
So, of course, we attract a lot of critics. Their notes are often thoughtful and well written, some rivaling Shakespeare's sonnets. I try to give every suggestion every bit of the consideration that it deserves.
It is always good to keep an open mind.
However, the suggestion that I should be shot seems a bit excessive to me. In complaining about the fact that I was riding Tradewind, a Corolla stallion who is about 12.3 hands, tremendous attention was given to the amount of fat existing on various parts of my body. One should keep in mind that all of that fat is well served by a great deal of blood. Were I to be shot I most assuredly would leave a huge mess for some unfortunate soul to have to clean up.
I hate to put that imposition on anyone. However, I am willing to meet half way. Now that I see the error of my ways I feel that shooting would be too good for me.
The only fair thing to do is to force me to ride myself to death. Since I have already won HOA National Pleasure Trail Horse of the Year riding Tradewind, and since he has trotted with me on his back well over 1000 miles over the past few years I think it best that he be the instrument of my death. I should be forced to ride Tradewind fifty miles in the woods in a single day. Such a ride would surely kill an old obese idiot like me.
Of course, I recognize that in my old age I have become untrustworthy. I am the kind of person that might only ride 49.5 miles. I will need proper attendants to make sure that I meet my maker and atone for my horrible sin of riding ponies. The only thing to do is for a group of Warm blood riders to accompany me to make sure that I go at least fifty miles before I expire.
In the incredibly unlikely event that my idiotic, fat body somehow survives the fifty mile ride, I still deserve death. I suggest that my executioners put me under a shade tree and force me to eat every raw oyster they can shuck. Not just those little ones either. I deserve to be forced to eat the large, sea side oysters, one after another, (with cocktail sauce), until my last mortal breath is drawn.
Get me a case of O'Dhouls too. I would hate to face St. Peter with a dry throat.
"Swing Low sweet Chariot" (provided of course that said chariot is pulled only by huge horses)
1 comment:
You forgot to mention that poor tortured tiny Tradewind who has carried you all those miles was brought back from crippling founder by you and that the founder occurred in the wild - most likely from humans feeding him. To your detractors . . .I defy them to find healthier, fitter, happier athletes than those that are blessed by your "obesity." As to threatening to shoot you . . . ah, do they know what you do for a living? Since the comment is still hidden on our Facebook page - be sure that your replacement knows to call me as a witness!
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