But Bobby also has another side. The one that involves flinging his body around, throwing himself and his rider into walls and fences, shutting down and refusing to move an inch, and even the occasional rear or buck.
I call this his Mighty Magee side, and it's a clear indicator that the devil lives inside him thanks to the Crazy As Fuck gene passed on from his papa.
|"I EAT UR FACE OFF IF YOU BRUSH ME."|
yeah, bobby. totally buying it.
The past week or so, all the good in Bobby has slowly been leaking out of his ears, and it's being replaced by a cheeky fucking shit head attitude. This happens a few times a year, and it's an easy fix.
I gave him a couple days off, then put him on the longe and just let him do his thing. He was a little confused at first because Bobbys are very polite gentlemen on the line. He was walking along with a big, swinging gait and continuously flicking his ears towards me when I told him his walk looked lovely.
The devil seized him in his own speshul "I'm so crazy. You better look out. I am a Crazy Horse." way.
He gave me the sideways stank eye, pinned his ears, swished his tail (I know, I know. You're on the edge of your seats wondering if I'm going to survive this!), and then TROTTED WITHOUT ME TELLING HIM TO.
|he's eating that horse's face off!|
not really, but i would give him a cookie if he did. that horse is a dick.
He did a few head snakes, a couple barely-off-the-ground bucks, and then cantered on his own.
Really, it was the craziest thing in the whole world. He is just so naughty I can't handle him sometimes.
He repeated the whole routine the other direction, but perhaps with a little less energy. Being so dangerously crazy is exhausting.
I got on him afterwards and had an absolutely perfect dressage warm up, so I got off of him after fifteen minutes and called it quits. Gotta keep those Good Horse brain cells in there and nurtured.
Today we went on a long walk trail ride where the Good Horse brain cells sprung another leak, and he refused to walk along the path I was trying to keep him on. He was all, "NO! WE DO NOT WALK ON THAT PACKED DOWN, THAWED OUT, TOTALLY DRY TRAIL. WE WALK IN THE CORN FIELD WHERE WE SLIP ALL OVER BECAUSE THERE'S STILL SNOW AND ICE AND HARD GROUND BECAUSE I SAID SO."
Trail rides are good for restoring brain cells, even if it's a delayed process.
I also accomplished two costume creations in the past two days, so be on the look out for those. They were both serious fucking pains in my ass.