What Does The Wonder Horse Have In Common With The New York Yankees?


Bad general management? No.

A payroll a mile long and requiring cash flows that are the equal to the entire South African GDP? No, not exactly.

Ooh! Ooh! I’ve got it!  They’re all on the DL.

dingdingdingdingdingding…We have a WINNER.

Yup, The Wonder Horse is still hors de combat.  Now he’s needing an ultrasound.  Fortunately, there is a vet six towns over that has a portable ultrasound, because otherwise, Huey would have to go to him instead of him coming out to the farm.

And if you think it’s a nuisance to get your cat into a carrier…or to provision for a trip to the grocery store with an infant…or to coordinate a land war in Asia…you’d still have something to learn from watching a horse get trailered up.

I am told that The Wonder Horse trailers “great”.  I have not actually seen this myself, because he hasn’t gone anywhere at all since he became mine, and he was already living out at the barn by then anyway.   I’m not totally sure what trailering “great” is, either.  I know what it isn’t.  It isn’t getting the horse on board and then having it fly into a panic attack and attempt to kick its way out of the trailer at 45 mph down the road.  It isn’t seeing the trailer and flying into a panic attack because it ate another horse.  It isn’t showing the horse the ramp to get up into the trailer and having it step to the side of that ramp instead of going up the ramp and into the trailer…88 straight times in a row.

So I’m not sure what to think about Huey and the trailer.  I know in his Previous Life he had to trailer all the time, because he was a professional show horse.  But I am virtually certain – because he was a professional show jumping horse – that he had to get his legs cold hosed all the time, and we already know how he feels about that.

So the good news is that the vet will come visit the farm and do the ultrasound there.

What a fascinating experience that will be, to be sure.  The Wonder Horse really needs to be worked v.e.r.y. regularly in order to replenish his supply of “Good”.  When he’s not getting worked, that reservoir of Good start to evaporate.  I’m already seeing those warning signs…he’s getting fidgety, and starting to get a little disrespectful.  I wasn’t expecting to have that problem until the ice covers the ground.  If it’s a tendon or ligament, Mr Trouble is going to start now.

God help us all if he gets put on stall rest.  I can’t even imagine.

In the meantime, I can at least console myself that we – unlike the New York Yankees – are not subject to the exuberant volatility of our fans.  No one is going to jeer us, heckle us, or pillory us on prime-time television.  And while we’re not too far from Joba Chamberlain or Andy Pettitte, at least we don’t have anything like A-Rod going on, not in this barn.

Thank heavens for small favors.


About Lori Holder-Webb

I'm a Southern Woman by birth and a Texan Woman by upbringing...and yet I find myself living in New England and married to a New York City boy. Up here we use the same currency as we do at home, and I don't need to travel with a passport, but the commonalities pretty much end there. The language is different, the jokes are different, the people are different, and the weather and terrain sure are different too. I moved away from Texas in 2002, and ever since then, I've been the stranger in the strange land... I've had some questions about the name of the blog - if you were not alive, or living abroad or under a rock, or in grad school during the late 1980s, Oldsmobile attempted to shuck its stodgy image with a series of commercials intended to bring brand appeal to the younger generation: this car, they said, is not your father's Oldsmobile. If you have a morbid curiosity, hit YouTube for William Shatner Oldsmobile...it will take you right there.

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