Me: I'm going to take the ponies for a walk. (On a leadline, while I walk the dogs through our normal haunts in the local fields.) Wanna come?
Logan: Sure. But I'm going to ride.
Um.. That's not a good idea. (Remembering that we have a horse who was given to us because of a bucking problem, and one who is prone to fits with 3 days off, but has had roughly 6 WEEKS off.)
Well, I'm not taking a horse for a WALK, I'm going to ride him.
*Further discussion ensues, in which Logan reminds me he used to be a professional bull rider*
Me: Fine. We'll put the western saddle on him and.. you'll wear a helmet.
Logan: Nope. Not wearing a helmet.
Then you're not getting on.
*Further discussion ensues*
Me: Fine. Then you're staying on the grass. (Which is about 6 inches of mud underneath. My poor grass..)
Logan: Fine.
Me: *Slightly shitting my pants at the idea that now I have to get on MY horse after she's had 6 weeks off to do this "leisurely" trail ride. Which, btw, the dogs are NOT going on with us. Oy.* I'll get Andi ready.
He got on, I set them loose on the grass, and everything was fine! I was pretty impressed. So, I got Sherwood ready. Brushed, saddled, bri... And then Andi wandered up to us without a rider. *Picture shock, fear, cursing and unbridling, haltering as quickly as I can, and...*
Logan, as he comes limping around the front of the house: That FUCKING HORSE!! He dumped me!! That asshole!
Me: Okay, well, someone needs to get on him again and sort this out. Do you want me to do it? You can just hold Sher.
No. I got this.
Okay...
*Logan remounts with a crop this time, and... And takes off bucking with him half in the saddle, on the driveway, down the gauntlet of cars. Redneck madness ensues.*
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