Horse owners are not nice.
Back in the olden days when I was a racetrack groom, I had a horse named Eddie. He was a big bastard for a racehorse, young and not handled much when I got hold of him.

Ever seen "Sea Biscuit"? Remember the scene where the horse was chewing up the stalls so they put a goat in with him to calm him, and the goat ended up being kicked through the air?

Yeah, that's what Eddie was like.

So here I am, the newest guy in the barn, as green as they come, with this monster of a horse whose favorite game was to stomp as hard as he could on my feet, and to try to crowd me against the wall of his stall as I was cleaning it. He was also head-shy, which meant I had an awful time putting his bridle on as he would panic and hold his head high, the whites of his eyes showing. I'm sure the other grooms loved the thought of me working with this.

Only thing is, I'm not quite what they thought. When given something like that I don't quit- I get mean and stubborn. So when the horse crowded me, I planted the tines of the pitchfork in the floor and held out the handle and let him ram his belly into that. When he bit me, I wheeled around and rammed my elbow into the base of his neck. When he tried to stomp me I rammed my knee into his belly.

It took a couple of weeks, but he learned not to fuck with me.

Then I took the opposite approach- when he behaved himself I fed him half a donut. If he was especially good I brought him a little can of orange juice and fed it to him. When he stood still and docile I spoke softly and fuzzed up his head.

Within a month I had him calm and mellow as any horse, easy to care for and relaxed. He stopped being so skittish and trusted me as I put his bridle on, and we got along pretty well.

Then one day his owner showed up, a big burly Italian guy with all the subtle graces of a stevedore on the lash. He was loud, obnoxious, filling the barn with his voice and his raucous laugh, slapping people on the back and generally being a clot. After lots of loudness in the barn he came over to see Eddie as he was in his stall. I can still remember him booming out, "So there you are, you big ugly son of a bitch" and giving the horse what I'm sure he thought of as a good-natured love pat, but what was in fact a full-arm slap across the horse's head.

The boss saw me flash red as I held the pitchfork, and furiously gestured me back. I kept a death grip on the handle, waiting for this lump of salami to leave so I could get to my horse and calm him. Ultimately the boss got rid of him, and I immediately went to Eddie's stall and spoke to him gently, stroking his neck until he stopped shivering. Now I knew why he had been so head-shy.

That ginzo might have been paying Eddie's bills, but I swear if I had seen him again he would have been twatted with the nearest heavy thing I could find and thrown into the shit pile.

I don't know what ever happened to Eddie- he was a very young horse at the time, so maybe he went on to better things. But I do know that he deserved better treatment than that.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 21:11, 5 replies)

Personally
I would have impaled him on the pitchfork, there is no need to do that with horses. But then again, unfortunately it is against the law to do that, even with people who deserve it.`
( jim_bob can herd cats., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 21:16, closed)

argh
People mistreating animals is my biggest pet peeve (pun very much intended).
(europe-who, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 21:29, closed)

Animal cruelty boils my piss so fucking much.
Especially when it involves such intelligent creatures as horses.

Three cheers to Loon!

Three cheers to the verb "to twat"!

p.s. Clot is a favourite word of mine, greatly underused IMO. I also use it as a euphemisn for cunt, depending on the company ;o)
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 22:27, closed)

Horses are amazingly intelligent.
I took care of one horse who I swear understood English. I could give her verbal directions and she'd follow them- things like "turn right" or "pay attention". And another one understood me when she got cast in her stall (meaning that she had rolled too close to the wall and couldn't get up and was panicking) and I told her to lie still and I would roll her over. Sure enough she froze in position and stayed stiff as I lifted her by her legs and rolled her over, then stayed that way until I got out of the way.

I'm proud to have known the horses I did. Even the one who shat on my hand as I was changing her bandages- she had twitched her hoof to tell me to get out of the way, so I really couldn't fault her for the mess on my arm.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 22:34, closed)

^ that's respectful and empathic of you....
Yet with so many b3tans, the BOTTOM line is poo....
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 22:55, closed)