Jane is over the edge. Understandable. But she does have a blog to run. I am completely in the loop. I have informants. I will run the blog. Talk to The Hoof will be my new column.
I talked to Barbie on the barn phone yesterday (BTW, Daisy: you left your phone in the feeder tub in her stall. You’re lucky. She found it rather tasteless.) She’s sore, but well.
She metaphorically bit my head off. Barbie felt I could have explained the whole foaling procedure more clearly. I played the gelding card (what do we know?) and she’s somewhat mollified. I spoke to Murphy, who of course, had no clue what he was hearing. But that whinny. He whinnied at me!
According to Barbie this is what happened: she started feeling sort of colicky, but rather far back, away from her stomach. She said it was a squeezy constricted feeling? Next thing she knew, she was laying in the straw being horribly squeezed. She said it was like being ripped open and left to die.
(This is why she is mad at me. For not explaining exactly where the foal came out. But I appeal to you…would YOU have a baby if you knew where it came out? Of course not.)
Barbie jumped on me: “You said I was on camera! That the humans would see me colicking on camera and come help!” She was steamed.
“Barbs, the human came, right? As soon as you started hurting?”
“Well, yeah. But it’s not like she did anything. She just watched me. I nearly died! Humans. She could have given me a shot or something. At the very least she could have brought me a Margarita.”
Better change the subject, she’s gonna blame me.
“How did you feel when you saw the baby?”, I said.
“Baby? I thought that thing on the straw was my stomach. I thought about trampling it, but I was too tired. I was dying, Hudson. You didn’t tell me I was going to DIE”.
“Um. You didn’t die”, I say, “and look what you got.”
“Well. I could have”, she said, “and what I “got” was HURT. You have no idea. Why couldn’t I have been born a gelding?”
I hear a hoof stomp.
“You didn’t hurt him, though, right?”, I say.
Maybe if I point out she’s a good mom she’ll forgive me.
“I was going to!” she said. “There was all this pain, then everything went black, and then there’s this bloody thing behind me! It was like some alien pod. It was white and thrashy. The human came in and tore open the pod’s chest. I swear, it was just like Alien. This CREATURE broke out. You saw the movie, right?”
“Of course”, I say.
Who hasn’t seen Alien? It’s a classic.
“I had to just lay there, and hope I’d feel strong enough to kill it before it killed me”, she says. “Although at that point, dying didn’t sound so bad. I felt so….ugly“
I love Barbie, but she is a bit of a drama queen. Ugly is the worst word in her vocabulary. She wanted to die not because she was in pain, but because she was messy.
“Barbs, you could never be ugly. Not even if you’re dying next to an alien”, I say.
“Well I know that. But a girl can feel ugly, can’t she?, she says, huffily.
“What happened then?”, I say, rolling my eyes.
“The blackness started to clear up, and I could see. I was SO tired. I think I was too tired to be afraid…” She’s musing, as if that was a new experience. “…and the alien didn’t move much. It didn’t leap out and try to kill me, it just lay there. I was still woozy, but I got up, and I had this sort of bloody James Durbin tail thing going on – that was weird – it kept whacking my back legs when I took a step…”
“Hold on” I say, “Time out.” I do not need that image in my brain: she’s like my kid sister. “TMI”, I say, “cut to the chase.”
“Geldings!”, she says, sniffing. “I had to go through it, so YOU have to hear about it.”
Fine. Whatever. I want to hear the part about Murphy, and when the light bulb went off for her. I can Lalalalala my way through this. Steers. I’ll think of steers….
“No steers.”, Barbie says.
But she cuts to the good part. Not without making the hair on my dock stand up though.
“So I’m up, right? It’s weird, but the human leaves.”
I’m guessing the human was watching her on TV.
“And this thing still isn’t moving. So I decide to go see if it’s alive…”
“You didn’t!”, I say.
“I pawed at it to see if it was dead or not. I nudged it a couple of times. It moved. Hudson, it had EYES. All hell broke loose: Kathryn, Daisy, and Jane came, and everyone was trying to get me away from the alien.”
I have to tell myself everything is okay, Murphy is fine, Barbie is going to tell it her way. The baby is fine. Baby. Is. Fine. What I really want to do is kick her.
“Daisy gets a halter on me, and I sort of lose it. Ok, I totally lose it. She has to run the lead through the bars for leverage.”
“Then it HITS me. This thing looks…familiar. It has a little horse face. I remembered all that crap you said about a long time ago when I was short: making copies (that still makes no sense, btw), and peeling them off. It wasn’t an alien Hudson, it was one of us. It even smelled like me. The only thing that was still weird? It was flat. No legs. Spooky.”
You know. I just might kill her. When do we get to the part where she is the MOM?
“The human, I mean Kathryn, goes over and starts unfolding it, like it’s a blanket. And it has legs. She keeps pulling its legs out in front of it. It flops around. It has like miles of legs.
“Kathryn tries to get it to stand, but it keeps falling. Then your mom came in, and Kathryn had the front end, and your mom had the back end, and they got it to stand. You know the first thing it tried to do when it stood up? Lunge straight at me.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I didn’t do such a good job of explaining the baby thing.
“Once it was standing, I could tell it was a horse. A really short one, so I wasn’t afraid anymore. Kathryn and your mom kind of walked it over toward me, and I sniffed it, and then I was doing weird stuff like licking its butt? Strange. I couldn’t help myself.
It looked like he had a few too many Margaritas already. Wow he was wobbly. It was funny, the two humans lurching all over the place trying to keep the horse on its feet. They were hilarious!
When I realized where they were aiming that thing, I froze. No. They. Wouldn’t.”
It started pulling on my…never mind. It hurt, but it was a relief too? I didn’t know WHAT I felt. I’m kinda glad now that Daisy had a death grip on me.
Hudson, he’s beautiful. I think…he’s mine. I don’t like it when he sleeps. I get anxious. I keep waking him up. It’s like now I don’t want him to die! He sleeps, and I stand over him. It’s the only way I can fall asleep. I have to be standing with my hooves next to him and my head over him. I want him. I mean, I want him. I like want him forever and ever.”
My gelding heart melts. I had a mom too, you know.
“Barbs?” I say quietly, “you did good. Really good. Happy Mother’s Day.”