Jitter, COTH Quadruped Correspondent

As the snow begins to melt and the grass in my field (which I’ve considered inferior all winter) finally starts growing again, it’s time for me to begin my annual spring cleaning. Encouraging your Human to ditch the old and bring in the new is something I’ve touched on before and it can get to be kind of a drag.

I have been informed by the barn cats that Humans everywhere recently celebrated something called “Valley Tines Day”, in which they make goony eyes at each other, and refuse to share their candy with me.

After assessing my haul from Santa Hoss, one of my favorite holiday traditions is making my list of resolutions for the new year. 

(For my Human, obviously. I am already perfect.)

This is more of an editing process than a writing process, since her list of defects, forgotten goals, lazy avoidances and sadly untapped potential is longer than your average sheet of legal paper, and besides, I would rather opt for more festive wall decorations for my stall. Like poo.

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.

I’ve found that as the weather gets colder and rainier, Humans tend to go a little stir-crazy as you spend more time in the indoor arena drilling her on her dreadful dressage. Although training your Human is serious business, it’s also important to make sure she has fun on occasion. I’ve found that a rousing game of tag is a great way to get the color back in her cheeks.

I’ve recently begun accepting questions from my devoted readers. This month’s letter focuses on allowing your human to understand your need for social interaction.

Across the country, horse show season is in full swing, and you know what that means—potentially long rides in hot trailers with inadequate snack options (I asked for alfalfa, not grass hay, stewardess!) next to that one gelding in the barn who spits when he snorts.

I recently had the opportunity to chat with a newcomer to our farm—a tall, dark and dashing gentleman who, in a former life, was a race horse.

He’s handsome, he’s quick, and I may be in love. I gave him some tips on human management, and he helped me get in touch with the Thoroughbred side of my pedigree. He also told me about his traveling adventures to exotic places like Florida and New York, and he mentioned the great variety of hay, grains and grass he’d gotten to eat in his career.

As any of us with our own green space knows, pasture management can be difficult. Throw a lead-rope wielding Human into the mix, and your long day of culling your field’s clover crop just became a juggling act.

Keep It Simple

Sometimes even the most well-meaning Human can be utterly hopeless when it comes to aesthetics. For example: She often shows up at the barn in the same tired ensemble. (Would she wear those jeans in public? I think not.)

From what I could see through her car window while I was playing tag, style is not a priority in my Human’s life. I haven’t seen my Human’s “apartment,” but I’m guessing her interior decorating skills are naught.

How can we possibly expect them to accessorize our lives, when they can’t even put themselves together?