Dear, precious people. I *know* there are horses out there in that pasture and that they are beautiful. I realize that you don’t think it’s a problem to take your dog out to chase them or your two year old child to run beneath their sharp and dangerous hooves. But it is. It is a problem.
Please read the signs nailed to the fence, they are No Trespassing signs. This means that you should not go into the posted area. Also, when I see you coming out from behind the pool, the horse trailer, the boat from the pen where the goats are, I’m not quite sure how to react. My husband tends to attack by asking where you live, so we can come to your yard and feed and pet your dogs over the fence, with our dogs leashed, so that they may defecate in your yard. Obviously this is acceptable behavior since you’re modeling it. Right?
While I’m on the subject, when I ask if I can help you with something, which is the most polite thing I can think of to say when I’m actually thinking, “What the fuck are you doing in my pasture or goat pen?” the proper response is not to tell me that you’ve been watching and *never* see anyone out there so you figured it was okay to do whatever it was you were doing. It’s not. It’s not okay. If we were never out there the animals would be very thin or dead and they aren’t either. If we were never out there, there would not be saddle marks on their backs. If we were never out there, our cats would not follow us around like two dollar whores looking for a good scratch.
I’ve been here and done this before and my approach this time will be different. Kindness does not work. Obviously kindness does not work since when I catch you trespassing you don’t apologize but question the care my animals receive–yes, those same animals all gathered at the fence wanting attention. Let me tell you that livestock animals only do that when they are used to attention. Positive, loving, careful attention. They get that from me, the one who paid for them and buys and serves their food and shovels their shit and scrubs their water buckets. The one who has had that same horse there for almost eighteen years and who touched that pony’s hooves before they were completely dry from being born. Me. Not you, the asshole with entitlement issues. Go home. Pet your dog. Leave me and my horses and goats and cats alone. Please.
PS-I really miss Deuce. He was a badass and he would have made a point of keeping you out of the pen.