Monday, March 16, 2009
It's over
My life is over. The time to go to Trainer has come. Mom came tonight and cleaned out the tack room. She said I would be ridden everyday and would have to work hard and learn alot. Curses! My days of toodling around are over. Apparently I leave in the morning. And after I'm done being tortured by Trainer I'm not coming back to the beautiful farm where I'm living. Mom said she's bought a farm and Houston (remember him? The bird horse?) will be my brother. If I were less of a gentleman I would curse. And I know how to curse. Doc the wise taught me some good ones. I am practicing my angry faces tonight just to snub the idiot humans.
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2 comments:
Max, death by trainer isn't bad. Many have actually survived it. Consider it a horsey spa of sorts, a fat farm, if you will, rehab, detention, whatever you choose, but chances, though slim, are that you will survive. Grandponymom hugs.
You might actually enjoy the trainer, mine took me on a bunch of fieldtrips and they were fun.
Hang in there.
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