Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Shoeing on the dark-side of the moon...

Hmm...Too Formal?

Scenes from Chapter 13:

'A Pretty Fair Farrier'

 We all have those days, those clients, those collections of improbable events that can only come from exploring the the dark-side of the moon without a flashlight.

One of my favorites is the horse that doesn't quite make it through the appointment.  And naturally, the owner is at work.  And guess where she works?  Grisly-Lugnut & Ballsqueezer, LLC.  Attorneys-at-Law.  Never mind that Bucky was 31-years old, almost toothless and lived on nitro-glycerin tablets.  Or that he fell over dead on your new $90 fiberglass shoeing box.  The box where your iPad was sitting...next to your prescription Ray-Bans.  Just one thing matters:  Bucky died on your watch.

Then there is the case of way too much information.  That happens because of the nature of the job.  Horse owners are always conversing with your butt while your mouth is normally full of nails.  It's amazing the things people will tell a horseshoer's butt:  "Judy, I think we should do Sparky every six-weeks instead of eight.  His feet grow pretty fast."  She tells your butt, "You know, I haven't had an orgasm in fifteen years."  You change the schedule back to eight-weeks.


A trainer holds a horse for you.  A trainer who never holds a horse for anybody.  He starts to tell your butt a story:  "Ya know, we didn't win at Tucson last week."  (The horse he's holding is Double-Lucky Moon Shot -- a halter horse.)  "Judge kept lookin' at Moonie's front legs...like thar was somethin' wrong."  Of course, the butt doesn't immediately answer.  Case of pucker or something.  Then, more information is forthcoming:  "You know, I think we need to lower those outsides a little more.  Yeah, that's it I think...we should do that."  Then your butt hears the horse being snapped into the cross-ties and boots -- scraping the asphalt pretty quickly until they finally fade away.  Once you finish, you simply hose the blood off your rasp and head for the next appointment.


The trainer is at a show.  A note on the shoeing board says to check Buddy.  You scratch your butt and think, "Buddy who?"  You finally find a groom in one of the stalls talking to a horse.  She says, "Oh hi!"  You ask, "What's wrong with Buddy?"  She says, "Oh, he's lame."  You seek clarification: "Who's Buddy?"  The groom:  "Oh. I thought you knew.  I don't."  You say:  "You don't?"  She says: "No, but I knew a horse in Florida with the same name.  What a coincidence!"  You go back to the shoeing board and check the list.  Under a horse named Benjamin, is a note that says, "Vet wants you to...."  The rest has been smeared off and replaced with...'Pizza Hut -- Tues./4:00.'   You gaze down the aisle way in the direction of where you last saw the groom talking to the horse.  For a second or two, you actually consider asking her about...instead you change the shoeing board and write:  Buddy and Benjamin meet vet at Pizza Hut -- Tues/4:00.  Smiling, you head for your truck.   

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