Fork it over

Let me remind you, I am, by no means, a real cowgirl.  I help out when needed and I can hold my own as long as it is not on a horse, doesn’t require a rope, and I am able to wear trainers instead of boots.  Catch my drift?

So, my abilities are sometimes limited to an occasional feeding, ice breaking, gate closing and the like.

I was in charge of feeding a couple of our horses this morning–the retired roping horse and the pony. Moolah has always had a special place in my cowboy’s heart.  They traveled a lot of miles and won a lot of buckles, saddles and cash together.

Roping on Moolah in 1995.

Now that he is retired, Moolah lives a life of luxury which includes a healthy supply of sweet feed; when anyone goes to the barn he gets a little snack.

No matter what time breakfast arrives, he moves nearly as fast as he did in his younger days.  He kicks, snorts and trots in circles until he gets his sweet feed.

Today, I gave Moolah his hay first.  Not acceptable. He nosed around it and threw it all over the ground looking for his sweet feed.  He gave me a look that said, “Hey lady, don’t you know who I am?  Fork it over before someone gets hurt.”

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