April 1989 - Sincerely Sire Newsletter
Remember that horse I told you I bought my 13 year old daughter,
Scarlett, three months ago? The four legged beast who's monthly upkeep
and box stall rental fee is just a smidge less that my house payment. He
bumped his leg . . . Scarlett can't ride him anymore . . No one can ride
him. All he's allowed to do is lounge around in his stall and eat hay -
my hay. Scarlett can't even go down and walk him, because he's so hot
from not being worked that she can't control him.
He has something on his leg called a splint. He may get well and he may
not. The vet says it's a calcium deposit, which means I have to keep
making deposits to the vet.
Now in spite of what you might be thinking, I have no hard feelings about
this whatsoever. After all, I do love my daughter and the joy that this
horse (Windsor) has brought to her young life is well worth the paltry
sum that I have spent on him. So I spent a few bucks to purchase Windsor
and have him shipped here. So I bought him some shoes, and a saddle and
paid for a couple of x-rays by the vet. And then there's the monthly
stall and training fees. And let us not forget the nice blanket my
daughter picked out for him. And you should see how cute Scarlett looks
in her new riding outfit. No, I don't mind the money. I would do
anything to make my little pumpkin happy.
However, if old Windsor doesn't get well soon, here is what I'm going to
do; I'm going to have him shipped to either the Skippy or Alpo plant,
depending on who has the best processing rates. I will have him canned
and put into boxes. I will have the boxes shipped to my home where I
will store them in my garage. It will be Scarlett's duty to feed our
dog, Kona, every morning until Windsor is all gone. I figure this will
take about four years since Kona is a small dog and Windsor is getting
very fat eating my hay. And yes, it will be Scarlett's job to keep the
backyard neat and clean as well. It's called rescooping your losses.
(Editors note: When the above article came out back in 1989, I received
several letters and a few phone calls from readers who were very upset
and angry because they believed that I really had sold the horse to a dog
food plant, which of course I didn't. We did eventually sell Windsor to
a wealthy psychiatrist who lived up in northern California, so he was
sure not only to receive the best physical care, but mental care as
well.)
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