I’m with Daisy, and she picks up her cell phone when it rings.
I hear her say: “No, I can’t do Saturday, we’re getting pregnant Saturday.” Pause. “Me, Bella and Jane are going.” Another pause. “Near U. C. Davis” Daisy holds the phone away from her ear, looking annoyed. “Uh-huh, well, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
I can only imagine what the non-horse person on the other end of the line thought.
“You did that on purpose”, I say, mildly.
“What?” says Daisy.
“WE are getting pregnant on Saturday?”, I say.
“Oh. SHIT.”, says Daisy, furiously punching cell phone buttons.
I can’t stop laughing, and trust me, it HURTS to laugh right now. I’m laughing so hard I have to use my jacket to brace my broken rib. It’s infectious: Daisy starts laughing too, and by the time she reaches whoever was informed we were all going to get pregnant on Saturday, she can hardly speak.
One of the things I love about Daisy is she speaks in the Royal We. It’s endearing, and it’s very funny.
Unless, of course, you really think three women are going to spend a Saturday afternoon together having lunch and getting pregnant. It’s not exactly Mani/Pedi material.
Daisy’s mare Barbie is getting pregnant. At a facility near UC Davis, that specializes in AI and broodmare care.
I’ve already started on four little blue booties (we’re hoping for a boy). We’re thinking about glow in the dark stars for the ceiling of her stall. We’re thinking nursery decorating. (Most of which Barbie and her vet will nix.)
Daddy, Popeye K, is one handsome dude, and he can JUMP: (many thanks to Spencer Ranch for permission to use this photo. Check out the link and his Facebook page!)