 |
Doesn't Every Mare Owner Dress Her in Pink Ribbons
and Twinkle Toes? The Sainted Mare is Mortified.
|
I wrote this piece for Horse Junkies United, the wonderful blog for ammie riders that I contribute to. Thought I'd plug it in here as well, for those of you that don't get over to Horse Junkies -- and if you don't, really, what ARE you waiting for??? ;) You're missing some really good stuff!
The other day, The Sainted Mare’s supplements were delivered. My husband took the package from the carrier and took a quick look at it, then took a second, harder look. “Isn’t this the same stuff you take?” he asked.
Um, yep, guilty as charged. Different dosage, but essentially the same stuff. He was almost rendered fetal, he was laughing so hard. Hey, I don’t see what’s so amusing. What’s wrong with wanting a glossy coat and well lubricated joints?
This got me to thinking about those little oddities we horse people are known for. Not just the “clucking” at people to make them go faster, or the counting of strides between light poles/mile markers/cracks in the sidewalk, but the other, possibly even weirder, stuff we do.
For instance, have you ever had someone ask you what scent you’re wearing and you have to think a moment before answering, “Sore No More.”. Or Bigeloil, or Vetrolin. No kidding, happens all the time to me.
Or have you ever noticed that horse people have no problem taking their horse’s meds? I had a sinus infection the other week, had no time to get to the doctor, and remembered I’ve heard many friends who’d reported taking some of their horse’s SMZs when faced with similar situations. Heck, I’ve texted a friend asking the proper dosage for Robaxin, only to have her reply, “For you or for the horse?” Wow! I’m not going to dwell too much on that. I even know of one friend who’s been known to dose herself with dewormer.
NOTE: Absolutely
NONE of these behaviors are in any way recommended, yet (ostensibly) otherwise rational people are doing this.
Speaking of doctors and whatnot, I had to call mine the other week because the Boy was sick and my kids rarely get sick. They prefer to bring contagion home, give it to me, and move on their happy, healthy way. Bless their infectious hearts. Anyhow, the Boy was lethargic and not eating, which is totally unlike him. The conversation with the doctor started out like this: " Hi Dr. X. Noah is off his feed." Luckily my doctor knows about the whole horse obsession and was able to follow along.
Also, have you ever taken a look at a horse person’s desktop, phone wallpaper, or iPad screens? They may be proud parents or have 25 grandkids, but odds are it’s the pony pics you’ll see on the screens. Hey, I”m not judging, I ‘m just calling it like it is.
Then there’s the whole breeding thing. I bet you 90% of the population can’t go more than 2 generations back on their own family tree, yet they can recite their equine partner’s antecedents back to Alexander the Great’s Bucephalus. As for their own reproduction, heck, a couple of adult beverages may have been the impetus for that momentous decision. However, when it comes to deciding who is worthy of breeding to Madame Mare, a screening process more intense than the British Royal Family’s is employed, with dossiers, video, and spreadsheets with genetic info and traits going back 15 generations.
And know how you spot a horse family like mine at sporting events? All the other families are wrapped in fleece blankets or have rain ponchos. My family is wrapped in coolers, waterproof turnout blankets, and wool dress sheets.
Finally, you may realize you’re spending waaaaaaaay too much time in the barn when you’ve needed that “date night” grooming and realized it would be faster and easier to take out the clippers and the old 10 blade than go for the razor?
Again, no judgment here. Not even a little bit. Glass houses and all…
