unbridled spirit

now that i live in the land of the unbridled spirit, i think i want to get a horse and name it “colonel sanders.” race horses are always named things like “war admiral” and “man of war” and “dumber than a road apple.” (that's the one that loses all the races because it’s too busy ogling all the pretty girl horses.)

but i would name mine “colonel sanders.” it would be an especially appropriate name, because i would want a fat, lazy horse that had been put to pasture years ago. one that liked to search for particularly tender clumps of grass, and had gray hairs on its nose. i wouldn’t ride it or anything. i’m actually afraid of riding a horse. this comes from the few experiences i've had with those old, tired trail horses that are just supposed to follow each other in a line down a familiar path, but who, whenever i happen to be the rider suddenly decide that they've had enough of the quiet life and feel like taking off cross-country to see the world. that's another story entirely. suffice to say, i think a dilapidated horse would be a fun and stylish way to tip the tall grass by the fences without ever having to bust out the weed whacker.

this would be a horse for whom the very thought of being ridden casts his whole world into upheaval. occasionally i’d put charlie up on his back and he would cast me a sardonic glance. i imagine him standing so still that my goldfinches build nests above his tail, or maybe k’tigu decides his back is a good place to sun herself.

i don’t even know why the idea appeals to me so much. maybe just the idea of some otherwise washed up critter to love. i could feed him sugar cubes and lean on him. of course, i do have joe for that, but i don’t know what he’d do if i tried to feed him sugar cubes.