A Tesster story

I have always said that of all the horses I mess with, all of them who I've trained and who's thrown me, stepped on me, kicked me and took off under mesquites with me, my Tesster would be the one that would kill me. I am too comfortable around her. She's suckered me in and is just waiting for her shot. Remember that at my eulogy. Let's start from the beginning . . .

There are a couple of things that I am really proud of in life,- besides the fact that I am smart enough to know I'm too stupid to go it without Christ - Tesst is one of them.

Tesster is my horse and I've had her since 1994. I trained her and she is the one thing that just takes me as I am, then won't let me slack and other times she simply lays down in the stall with me, and I lay next to her with my head on her big old belly (she ain't missed a settin in her life).

Because I am such a pushover, I give her horse cookies about 80036 times a day. (Gee, why is she so fat?) I don't do it the smart way, palm flat, cookie on top and no appendages in danger. I just shove it in her mouth, like you would put a letter in a mailbox. A couple of times over the years, she's had to get my fingers out of the way with her tongue.

Well, today when I gave her a cookie, I stuck my finger in too far and this time she didn't even try to get around it. She crunched down and let me tell you, a grazing animals teeth are blunt weapons of mass destruction.

It's all bruised and feels funny, like it's loose. Great. I'll lose my nail and won't that be appealing? Bet Robert will see is and say "Ooooo, baby! Yer makin my mouth water!"

I'll tell you . . she's gonna kill me. And it's gonna huuuurt.