While I was out of town for a few days, my husband took over feeding our two old sweeties. He often accompanies me to the pasture, but lately he’s been at work and the job has fallen largely to me. Bud, Pepper and I have created quite a routine.

Our own little routine that Rick doesn’t always totally follow.

When I heard the news from day one of the feeding, it wasn’t so good.

“When the cat is away, the mice will play.”

Or so the saying goes.

Here’s what went down:

Rick was running late and worn out from a long, hard day.

The horses weren’t kind to him.

When I talked to him that evening and he reported on what had happened, I felt like a parent hearing a bad report from the babysitter.

It seems Bud and Pepper decided to have a bit of a walkabout after eating their grain.

This is really unusual for them. For over a year, they have followed our routine to the letter. Eat grain, have dessert and then go back into the pasture. Many times we don’t even have to direct them. They go on their own. We haven’t even haltered them for months.

But last week was different.

The little nibs of still green grass in the new pasture must have called to them.

Whispered sweet nothings in their pointy ears.

What could a self-respecting horse do except follow the siren song?

Go, of course.

Truth is, the horses are hungry. They are between seasons so to speak. They are still on the pasture – not yet being supplemented with hay. And their pasture is done. Between the heat, the grasshoppers and now the changing of seasons, the grass is worn down to nothing.

So I understand. Really I do. It’s just that Rick wasn’t any too happy to be chasing down horses in the evening, with darkness bearing down. Horses who weren’t too interested in being caught.

He said Pepper especially was eating like a madwoman. Er… mad mare, I guess. Ripping grass as fast as she could get it into her mouth.

I couldn’t have done anything had I been there. It’s just that being away, I felt somehow responsible. Isn’t that crazy? Rick has been around horses longer than I have and is infinitely more capable as a handler. I still felt responsible. Like I’d let him and them down.

What is this thing we women have about being superwoman? Doing it all.

I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan cuz I’m a woman – w-o-m-a-n. I’ll say it again.

Check the lyrics if you’re too young to recognize the song. It didn’t do much for women and our natural superwoman leanings. Most women I know feel responsible for way more than is really within their (our) sphere of influence.

 

Chime in if you know what I’m talkin’ about.

 

P.S. For those of you who keep track, I’m sorry about missing yesterday’s post. I was just getting back from my trip and the time simply got away from me. I had a couple of posts prepared ahead of time (rather like stocking the fridge before I left town), but not one for Wednesday. Given the topic of this post, maybe it was okay to let one go.

You tell me.

 

 

 

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