I'ma gonna sell that klutz

That aforementioned Klutz gave me the run around yesterday. Literally. I arrived at the field where he is kept and proceded to find him so I could doctor up the wound on his foot. Before I get within fifty feet of the bugger, he goes tearing off across the field, with his golden oldie buddies struggling to keep up. I spent forty-five minutes trying to catch him, to no avail. I was so angry with him that I said some things I never thought I would say, telling him I hated him and I was going to sell him, all the while blubbering the words because of snot and tears running down my face.

I have never, in the three years I have owned him, had this kind of trouble. Sure, he has been stubborn and woolheaded, but he has never evaded capture before.

I think it is something in this Utah air. Maybe he is royally pissed off at moving away from his farm home back in Virginia, the only home he has ever really known.

Now, of course, I have had second thoughts about selling the Light-blasted horse. Even after all the crap our equine friends kick our way, we self-diagnosed 'horse lovers' will never sell 'em. I guess it is some kind of blood disorder, in that it is IN our blood.




(I didn't post yesterday because, #1, I was so angry with Apollo, #2, I had a bad hair day, and #3, we hosted a house-warming party, since we just moved in to our apartment here at the University.)