You Take The Horse; I'll Gladly Take The Dog

By Dave Barry
Knight-Ridder Newspapers

RECENTLY a woman I know named Michelle came into the newspaper office with a big ugly wound on her upper arm. Realizing that she might be self-conscious about it, I said: "Michelle, what's that big ugly wound on your upper arm?" Sensitivity is the cornerstone of journalism.
It turned out that Michelle had been bitten by a horse. It was her own horse, and it bit her while she was trying to feed it.
This is a typical horse maneuver. Horses are the opposite of dogs, gratitude-wise. You give a dog something totally wretched to eat, such as a toad part or a wad of pre-chewed Dentyne, and the dog will henceforth view you as the Supreme Being.
It will gaze on you for hours with rapt adoration and lick the ground you walk on and try to kill the pizza-delivery person if he comes anywhere near you.
Whereas if you spend hours grooming a horse and lugging its food and water around, the horse will be thinking: "Should I chomp on this person's arm? Or should I merely blow a couple gallons of horse snot into this person's hair?"
I don't trust horses. "Never trust an animal with feet made from the same material as bowling balls" is one of my mottoes. I never believed those scenes in Western movies when bad guys would tie the hero up, and his horse would trot over and untie the knots with his teeth. A real horse would size up the situation and stomp on the hero's feet.
I don't blame horses for being hostile. I myself would feel hostile toward somebody who was always sitting on me and yanking on my lips. But what I don't get is, how come they're so popular? Especially with women?
Now, you're probably saying: "Dave, you're just bitter because in fifth grade you had an intense crush on Susan Cartoun, and you wrote `Sue' on your notebook inside a heart, but the name inside the heart on her notebook was `Frosty,' an imaginary horse that she loved much more than you, despite the fact that, if Frosty ever had the chance, it would have got imaginary snot in her hair."
Yes, it's true that I am a little bitter about that. Also, I have not forgotten my first experience with a horse. I was 9 years old, at a farm, and I attempted to ride a pony.
"Pony" is a misunderstood word. Many young people, having grown up watching the "My Little Pony" cartoon show, believe that a pony is a cute little pastel-colored critter with a perky voice and a nurturing personality and a 1973 Farrah Fawcett hair style. Whereas, in fact, a typical pony is the same weight as an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme but with no controls or moral code.
Anyway, following my sister's directions, I put my foot into the metal thing hanging down from the pony (technically, the "fetlock"), and instantly the pony, not wishing to be boarded at that time, trotted briskly off, with my leg attached to it.
I attempted to keep up by bouncing next to it on my other leg, like the famous Western cinematic star, Hopalong Dork, but finally, in a feat of astonishing equestrian skill, I fell down backward and got dragged across the field with my head bouncing gaily behind amongst the cow doots.
I could tell the pony enjoyed this immensely. It couldn't wait to get back to the stable and tell the other horses via Snort Language.
"You should have seen his hair!" snorted the pony. "He'll need to shampoo with industrial solvents!"
"Next time," snorted one of the older horses, "try stepping on him. It's like dropping an anvil on a Hostess Twinkie."
"And the legal authorities can't prosecute, because we're horses," snorted another.
So I stayed off horses altogether until 20 years later, when I was courting my wife. We were in the Rocky Mountains, and they had rental horses, and she wanted to ride one.
Naturally, she loves horses. As a child, she used to ride a neighbor's horse bareback, an experience she remembers fondly even though she admits the horse would regularly try to decapitate her by running under low tree branches at 27 miles per hour.
I don't want to sound like a broken record here, but why is it that a woman will forgive homicidal behavior in a horse, yet be highly critical of a man for leaving the toilet seat up?
But I was in Raging Hormone Courting Mode, meaning I would have wrestled a giant snake to impress my wife-to-be, so I let her talk me into getting on this rental horse.
It turned its head around and looked at me with one of those horse eyeballs the size of a mature grapefruit, and I knew instantly what it was thinking. It was thinking: "Hey! It's Hopalong Dork!"
So while my wife's horse trotted briskly off into the scenery, looking for low branches to run under, my horse just stood there, eating and pooping, waiting for me to put one leg on the ground so it could suddenly take off and drag me to Oregon.
So I sat very still, like one of those statue generals, only more rigid. I'd say we moved about 11 feet in two hours. Next time I am definitely renting the snake.
Fortunately, my wife's horse was unable to kill her, and we got married and lived happily ever after, except that she keeps saying that she wants us to go riding again.
I don't know what to do. I think maybe tonight I'll fix her a candlelight dinner, give her some wine, and put on some soft, romantic music. Then, when the moment is just right, I will gently but firmly bite her upper arm.




Dave Barry's column appears Monday on The Times' editorial page

HAHAHAHAH! That is fantastic!!! I totally relate, I learned to ride on a pony that liked to run me into trees, and would buck me off only if I'd either land in prickers or on a tree. Seriously, he never bucked when we were in the middle of a field, only if there was something good to toss me into.

Dogs are certainly more loving towards their care taker.

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http://www.thewetnose.blogspot.com/

I love Dave Barry...always funny.

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Thanks for the laugh Laura.

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I've loved Dave Barry for years but hadn't read that one! It made me laugh out loud!

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Thanks for the laugh! I needed it.

LOL!
I love horses... from a distance. I can really relate to Dave. And ponies are vicious. I worked with horses for a year as a vet tech and ponies are the worst patients ever. They bite, they kick, they hate children and people in general. I must say I got a bit of a satisfaction when I assisted the vet on neutering a particularly mean one

But they are majestic and noble and adorable when you are out of their kicking range.

Hilarious!

A friend called soon after I moved here and wanted to know if I could come take her to the ER. Sure - uh what is wrong?
"Moe bit my ear off". Sure enough she was sitting at her barn with her ear in her hand.
She is such a good friend she offered to sell me Moe for a really, really good price. I declined.

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Copper's Mom (always )

Too funny!

When we moved to our farm when I was 9, we didn't have any horses at first. So I would go down the road and ride the neighbor's pony. They didn't have a saddle for her. Her name was Judy and she tried to toss me off every single time I rode her. Her favorite move was to gallop along and then put on the brakes, lowering her head and tossing you into the briar patch. But I kept going back and riding her until we got my own pony.

Taffy would turn around and bite my foot when she didn't want to be ridden. I learned to move my foot very quickly when she swung her head around.

Later we sold Taffy and bought Ibn. Ibn would take the bit in his mouth and take off with me on him, hanging on for dear life. Sometimes I would have to bail because I was afraid he would break his neck taking the trails full speed with me on him. My lab would see me bail and stop, come back with me and then we would walk home, usually a couple of miles at the least.

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