I rode a horse today. Not your average horse, mind you, but a white and silver-mottled Percheron—a 2,400-pound draft horse, similar to a Clydesdale. It was like riding a rhino when he's a little sleepy; and I don't mind sayin', having that much power between your thighs is pretty incredible. I mean, not that I'm not used to that sort of thing already. Cuz, naturally, I am.
Now, I know what you're thinking. I look like a little princess up there on my magic unicorn—sorta—straight out of Disney. When in fact, the tall woman with her hand on the big horsey's halter is Donna, owner of Azteca Stables in Canyon Lake. Fooled ya. Hardly a "Giddyup, mighty magical steed!" moment. More like, "Mama, can we go faster?" Still . . . Note, no saddle necessary because, as I might have mentioned, that's a whole lotta horse between my thighs. Plus, I have magic all up in there. Obviously.
Interestingly, this Percheron's name is Kimmie. That alone elevates her to a superior position in the hierarchical chain of life. Natch, therefore, we shared a symbiotic connection—and a good laugh at the expense of lesser beings. (You know who you are.)
So Kimmie's the mare for the big Clyde they call Killian, shown at left with my BFF Winter. Seeing his wife with that big stallion in the palm of her hands, Winter's hubs could only bow in respect and awe. Plus Killian's got big feet, and you know what they say about that. And, well, it's true.
See Killian and Kimmie in the round pen, reducing its size to that of a play pen:
Just for comparison purposes, here's Smoky, a sweet almost-6-year-old. Now that you've seen the big guns in the same vicinity, Smoke looks rather puny, right?
Size doesn't matter to Smoky, though. His youthful ego is unbridled and primal. When the big guns came out of their stables with a certain, shall we say, swagger, little Smoky manned up and showed he wouldn't be intimidated. Here he is below, dropping the stud tack like it's hot (no argument there!), just in case Killian chances to look over while trotting circles in a round pen that hardly contains him. You go, Smoke!
Of course, when Smoky saw me snapping his picture, he got a little embarrassed and reined in the tack. Even primal displayers give pause when the threat of Internet exposure looms.
But I'm telling you, not a whole lotta difference between males of all species when it comes to claiming territory and dropping the tack—or did somebody want to argue that?
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And now here's your moment of zen with this week's creative cuss word combo, thanks to my HSM:
Fire nipples
2 days ago
