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December 19, 2012

Jitterbug's Letter To Santa

Jitterbug can't wait to see what kind of treats Santa has for her this year.

Accountability is a big issue with me, and as we approach the holiday season, I wish I could convince my Human to take on more of it. As it is though, I’ve come to realize that her endless griping and poor attitude are not going to change between now and Christmas. I thought I should take this year’s letter to Santa as my opportunity to set the record straight on my treat eligibility before he loads up his sleigh. 

Dear Santa Hoss,

First of all, whatever my Human has told you is a complete lie.

[This preamble may or may not be necessary, depending on how inferior and chatty your Human is. Mine often takes my instruction too personally and yammers on about how “naughty” I am to everyone in earshot. I actually have a theory that “her shrink” and “Santa,” both being sounding boards for tattlers, are one in the same, so I’m sure he’s had to hear all about her insecurities related to me.]

The incident with the fly mask was in no way my fault. A cheetah (or neighbor’s beagle, I didn’t notice which) appeared suddenly in my field and tore the ear covers off, and in the process of running for my life I may have kind of dropped it into a mud puddle.

[This of course, is not true. The real problem is that my Human continues to buy me inferior quality clothing, and despite my best efforts, my attempts to correct this by destroying the cheap material do not stop her from sticking them back on me and sending me outside. I’m walking around with holes in all my blankets like a zombie pony. It’s getting embarrassing.]

The now-infamous Day We Didn’t Make It To The Show was also a misunderstanding.

[My Human could simply not understand that I had requested first-class transportation, and as is typical of many airline employees, she was extremely rude and declined to change my ticket. This naturally became an opportunity for me to teach her about inferior customer service, so I had to refuse to get on the trailer. For four hours.]

And that muscle strain she got chasing me around the field is just a myth.

[I stretched before our field exercises; is it my fault she couldn’t learn from my example?]

All in all, Santa, I’m pretty sure I have one of the toughest jobs at the barn. If you really do see everything, (by the way, can you train a few of those security cameras on the feed room? I’d love to know which grain bin is mine.) then I’m sure you know what a slow learner my Human is. Far below average. I honestly can’t figure out how she graduated college without some teacher’s assistant double-barreling her.

[I know humans only have two legs, but if they can Gangnam, I think they could pull a quick double-barrel kick off, so what gives?]

Santa, I’m sure you of all humans understand how stressful it is to deal with misbehavior all the time, so you must be sympathetic to how hard I’ve worked this year. With all this in mind, I’d like to suggest that you deliver double the usual amount of horse treats to my Human’s house on Christmas Eve. And none of that “low sugar” stuff, either—I’m going to need a lot of energy if I’m expected to whip her into shape next year.

Oh, and Santa? Your reindeer have got to be on a strict diet for the big night. It’d be a shame to let all those childrens’ carrots and Christmas cookies go to waste…and they would sure fill up the stocking I’ve got hanging on my stall door.

[Recycling is very “in” with Humans these days. They’re too slow on the uptake of course, to realize that that’s how their fields have been fertilized for the last 2,000 years.]

Right, friend?

Yours truly, Jitterbug   

Jitterbug is a Michigan-bred Professional Draft Cross who skillfully avoided saddles until age 5. Since then, she has been lauded for her talent in successfully managing humans while training herself to one day achieve eventing greatness. Jitter and her human live in central Kentucky. Photo by Dark Horse Photography.