Dear Smart People Who Are Not Jane,
There’s a reason I mess with Jane. Via messing with Phil, who, face it, is über FUN to mess with. I mean, c’mon. If you were stuck hanging out with a Phil, could you resist turning your head casually, and saying a bored: “Booga booga”?
Or “I think there’s a skunk in the bottom of your hay…”?
Of course I’m scaring him when Jane isn’t around. Frankly, setting him off over nothing is just too much fun to resist.
My latest episode of admittedly over-the-top phreaking out of Phil was precipitated by little pointy party hats. Complete with chin elastic.
I had a birthday.
The one day of the year I get to look completely stupid. I’m the handsome horse on the left. The messy human staring into the sun (she’s not very bright) is Jane. The gorgeous babe rocking the stupid pointy hat (Chicks can do this. I don’t get it either.) is Ginger, with her tidy and photogenic human, Laurie.
Please take notes, Jane. A little make-up goes a long way. Tidy up, please.
Thank you for listening. Can any of you help Jane develop some horse savvy? For instance: We Do Not Put Party Hats On Horses Who Are Not Phil.
p.s. There’s one more letter, for Jane.
Ginger and I have proven to be excellent sports. Please destroy the Winnie-the-Pooh hats.
I’m enjoying the daily warming massage therapy on my knee, which frankly, I don’t think looks all that bad? Why all the fuss? It doesn’t hurt. At all. If it did, I would have torn you to shreds already. And the Not-Galloping is making me grumpy, FYI. This is not good for your future.
The ice water massage boot is interesting. For about three seconds. You thought I was yawning for 20 minutes because it felt good? I was bored OUT OF MY MIND. (But please, no singing.) You could fill those 20 minutes by peeling me some baby carrots, emperor style.
I need to know. Does ultra-sound treatment on that knee involve more Jane-Singing? I guarantee you that knee, should you sing, will explode. But not before I take a chunk out of your shoulder.
The real reason for my letter: I don’t understand this birthday obsession you humans have. I was pleasantly surprised that you considered what I, not you, would like for my birthday.
- I do not want to be clean. Clean is bad. Thank you for letting me roll and roll and roll.
- I do love a clean water trough. Nice of you to scrub it out.
- Of course I love carrots. And food. Thank you for happily providing both.
You are not off the hook for the party hat photo. Please consider my recent flare-up of Phil Phreaking Out a warning shot across your bow. If you do not cease, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
(I can make him afraid of cookies. Do not tempt me.)