It was a brutal day. By the time it was over, I just wanted to sit down, but there was work to do in the back yard, which had become overrun with weeds.
Hal and Charlie had been moved to their stalls, and the dogs were loose in the yard.
I didn’t realize Vito had gotten into Charlie’s stall, and was precariously close to Charlie’s back feet. It wasn’t just that Vito was in Charlie’s stall, and close to Charlie’s back feet; he was also pinned in a corner.
I didn’t know. I was too busy, trying to finish the yard chores so I could, selfishly, sit down.
Then I heard the blood curdling screams. Vito’s screams.
I threw down the hula hoe and ran to the sound of the screams.
I was near the horse stalls, so it was only a second or two after the screams started,
and I found,
in Charlie’s stall,
pinned in a corner,
inches from Charlie’s back feet….
covered in fresh pile of horse manure.
Since Charlie is on watered down food, his manure has a tendency to be a little watery too.
Now before anyone mocks our Brave Vito for screaming like a little girl when the bombs started falling, please keep in mind, a normal Charlie road apple is about 1/3 the size of Vito’s head. Imagine about 20 of them clocking Vito in various parts of his body, and he can’t get away.
No worries to those who don’t know the mechanics and gravitational properties of a horse turd. Only Vito’s pride was injured, mostly because I couldn’t stop laughing.
But if it had been an actual life ending event, I think we can all agree, that would be one obituary that would be hard to write.