Thursday June 4th, 2015
Those who know me, know I’m not a horse person. I’ve been bitten, kicked at (no contact made (cross eyed horse)) and smeared along a fence by horses through my time on this earth. I know lots of folks like horses and I respect their misguided affections. ML is going through the old pictures from both of our families, the goal of which is to scan them and share with family members. Every now and then you come across a picture that gets you thinking.
Here I am on a horse. What was going through my parents head(s). I don’t appear to have any of the personal protective equipment that should be used; no helmet, no shit kickers and most importantly no hand guns.
Cowboys carried guns to keep their horses in line. With some behaviours and some horses just the sound of the hammer being pulled back would fix the issue.
At first it appears that I am riding the horse on my own. I can only assume that there are barrels set up in the yard and we are barrel racing up a storm. Then I notice the deformity on the horses front leg. Wait a minute that might be my fathers leg. I know what he’s doing…he has the gun cocked at the horse’s head holding it steady…
Look at the ears on the horse! This beast is about to strike…Tabernac