In Threes.

My Dogs are Assholes.


On Friday, the little bitches took themselves on a self-guided tour of the creek behind our house.  I swung by the house between work and going to the barn, only to discover that the laundry room smelled like a swamp and there was dirt everywhere.  ...At least they came back.


Savannah was super body sore afterwards.  I guess all the digging and then maneuvering her eight-year-old body into a hole wasn't easy.  And, you know, the up and down the embankment and the joyous freedom-induced zoomies.  I contemplated giving her something for the ouchiness, but decided that it was more important to make sure that the pain went away rather than masking it and thinking she was all better.  She was fine the next morning.

See the break in the ground cover and the fresh dirt at that little v?

Monsoon.

Rainbow before the storm.
We had a random flash flood on Saturday.  I left the barn after the thunder and lightning started, but evidently skirted around all the rain.  The highway was steaming and the roads in my neighborhood were flooded.  D was out mowing the lawn and said that he felt something hit his back, turned around, and saw a wall of rain following him.  The neighbors had a rotten tree fall - thankfully, it fell in random pieces rather than straight down, because it would have hit our house.

And I lost a hubcap.  

Frisky.

I'm not sure exactly what happened.

One moment, we're cantering between fences.  

Little vertical from woods to bigger vertical towards woods.
The next moment, Archie is cracking his back in the air, I've lost the inside rein, and I'm staring at the ground, waiting to meet it.  I don't know how I didn't fall off.  Maybe even when he's being dirty, he's being a pleasant and safe dirty, and keeps me balanced over his back.  I made him go back and canter the first fence and then just loop around.  I had lost all confidence in taking the bigger fence.  Actually the whole thing shook me up and I took a moment to shake out my throbbing hands and try not to cry.  

While I was composing myself, I looked over and BO had parked his truck under a tree and was just standing there.  I don't know if Archie saw him/heard him and spooked.  Or if he tripped and got pissed off that he tripped - which has happened before.  Or if he just felt like telling me to go fuck myself - which has also happened before.

We ended the ride by walking in the woods and dude was perfect.  Hosed him, cooled him, gave him his beet pulp and covered him in SWAT and fly spray and turned him out in time for him to assert himself to the two new geldings.  I refilled his supplements, headed home (looking the entire way for that damn hubcap), and realized that I had sprained my right thumb.  Not painful, just can't use it.

Slightly beefier than normal.

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9 comments

  1. Wow. I don't know if I could cope with all of that in such quick succession! I hope your hand feels better soon.

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  2. OUCH!! Hope the hand feels better soon--and you find your runaway hubcap!

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  3. I love your tags for this post :)

    Kudos to your stickability!

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  4. Oh, silly dogs! That sounds like something mine would do.

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  5. that moment in time where you hang in the air and contemplate how things could turn out...

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  6. Wow. What a string of bad luck. Well, the dogs are not so much bad luck as just bad.

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  7. sometimes I feel you get hurt worse when you almost fall then if you actually fall!

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