Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Some days, I feel like I can't catch a break with this Kid.  I catch myself daydreaming about a cool, young guy.  Over 17 hands.  Bay.  Solid legs, slow-ish, dependable mind.  No vices.  No spooks.  No arthritis.  No opinion on training or conditioning or boring ring work.

Fuck you.  This is my stall.

But then I catch myself and I remind myself about how amazing my horse is and how lucky I am to have him.  He has never refused a fence.  He isn't dirty - he just communicates very well.  In a different language.  And I can't begrudge him his body because he had a hard job before I met him.  And he didn't choose that job.  But he chose me.  And when his back has been sore and his feet have been ouchie and his legs have been stiff, he has still allowed me to be his partner and has still consented to carry me over and around everything I've asked.  It may not be perfect and it may not be high, and he may still buck or rear or toss or do a pissed-off giraffe prance, but he does everything to the best of his ability.

It doesn't hurt that he's drop dead gorgeous and considerably more affectionate and intelligent than most other horses that I know.

I called the farrier yesterday on my lunch break to see about getting that shoe on.  He called me back, hours and hours later, to tell me that there was a death in the family and it wouldn't be until next week.

What?  His butt naturally blurs into the background.

I was headed out to a run when I got his call, so I called my husband and asked him to research the proper method for measuring a hoof for a boot.  And after my five miles, armed with just a pen, I headed out to the barn to give Archie his beet pulp and measure his hoof.  I didn't have any scientific method for the madness, so I just braced my forearm against the hoof and marked the widest part, both length and width.  Later, I had D measure the lines on my arm.  Is it accurate?  Nope.  Was it easy?  Yup.

After googling and checking all my favorite horse shopping sites, I finally settled on eBay.  I found one seller with the appropriate sized boots, a pair, for really cheap in an auction ending pretty soon.  After paying off that vet bill for his vax and ringbone diagnosis ($379), I'm broke.  The seller did say that if I won, they would see what shipping options would get the boots to me the quickest.  Standard shipping would be Monday, which would be okay but Saturday would be better.


And in a follow up to yesterday, I called the landlord regarding my concern about domestic abuse.  He also hasn't called me back.  People suck.