Icicle in My Brain

I wrote a haiku. Most of the time, I don’t write haikus. You have to clap out the syllables to make sure it goes 5/7/5, and clapping is not really one of the things a horse does best. And I’m a horse. You might remember that we determined a few weeks ago that I am not a couch.


Anyway, my Haley came out to feed me at 6:45 this morning, and she noticed that my left eye looked more like a tennis ball than a regular eye. She didn’t have to look. I could have told her via haiku:

Mom, look at my eye. 

It is swollen shut like woah.

Do you have some snacks?

She gave me some medicine and sang a song for me. She was in choir. I wasn’t. But I do have an icicle on my ear. It is trying to get into my brain.

Here, I’ll get closer so you can get a better look.

One of the nice things about being a horse is that I have thick fur all over my horsie body, even my face and ears. So if you are my Haley’s mom, and you are worried about me being cold, please stop that. I am fine. I am a horse.

But in case you feel sorry for me and want to send warm snacks or mittens, LOOK. There is also ice on my chin!

I like carrots and granola bars and Skittles and beer and apples.

And even though my eye is all jacked up, I still kept filling this bucket with snow and dumping it on my own face.

These are my hoofprints:





It snowed …

… and I can still do horse stuff.

I am a naked horse. I’m always naked.

I have a nice furry coat, but some horses wear blankets when it snows. I don’t do that, because my fur grows in real nice in the winter. It’s pretty neat to have a coat that just grows on you. No zippers or anything.


At Night, I Am Still a Horse

One of the things about being a horse is that even when it is dark or windy or snowy or rainy, you just keep on doing horse stuff.

For the past two days, it’s been windier than a 50-pound bag of whistling lips. I’m glad I’m a horse, because I am heavy and the wind can’t blow me away. I don’t think I’d like it if the wind picked me up and blew me to, like, Kansas or something. I don’t really know where Kansas is, but I bet their carrots do not taste as good as the ones here at my house.

This is what my mane looks like:

I’ve decided my mom needs a different name in this blog. “Mom” sounds not quite right for her, and I’ve never called her that, anyway. I think from now on I’ll call her Haley, since that’s her name. We’re more pals than we are mother and horse, anyway.

That’s all for today. We haven’t really done anything together, me and Haley, since Friday, because of this dang wind. Maybe tomorrow we’ll go for a ride or something, and I’ll post about that. In the meantime, happy trails!

I Am Looking at You

When you are a horse, you have a lot of time to look at stuff. 

So when my mom was sitting on the ground taking photos of me today, I looked at her. Normally my mom does not sit on the ground. She sits on me. She says I’m comfy like a couch. I thought about that for a minute.

Then I said: Couches do not like apples. And I like apples. And that means I’m a horse, not a couch.

I’m a Horse

I have a blog! I also have carrots and apples and bags of grain. I like Skittles and watermelon and granola bars and peppermints, too. And my mom. I like her.

I came to live with her in October of last year, and we’ve been pals ever since. Before I had this mom, I had a different one. She was really nice. She had to move to California, though, so that’s why I got this new mom.

Be sure to check back here once in a while so you can read about some of the horse stuff I do. It’s pretty fun to be a horse.