Clever titles are overrated.

Have you ever stood in a seriously dirty room, turned in a circle, and summarily walked out? That's about how I feel about my blog tonight. I thought I'd figure out a clever title and that would keep me focused. As you can see/read, that did not happen. So I'm stuck in this horribly dirty room hoping for a little focus, if we're lucky I'll get profound. Perhaps a list? 1. A family came and looked at Katie. I haven't heard from them and am trying to forget they ever came; not because they might not buy Katie. I'd like to forget them because I don't like (in a big way) the thought of selling Katie, period. 2. Rev has what appears to be a cold. I'm trying not to obsess. I am going to put him back on Vitamin C and get him some probiotics, if only to make myself feel better. I don't know...

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No one left bread crumbs

Sitting here I have written at least five opening sentences. It is not surprising that the topic that finds me unable to write is Katie. I placed an ad for Katie about a month ago. I didn't renew the ad after the initial seven days expired, mostly because I don't really want anyone to answer the ad! I got a couple responses, only one that was worth my, or Katie's, time. I have worried over Katie's future for a long time, I'd say it started the minute I saw her. I look at her and I only want the absolute best for her. She has always, always, evoked the very best in me. There is something very special about Katie that makes it really hard not to fall in love with her. It's not because she is an easy, laid back pony that anyone could crawl on. It's not because she is an angel in the pasture...

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Calgon take me away (or all that is scary in a world of washracks).

Rev moved up to the ranch (Diamond Hill) Friday. He did really well; he was loaded into a trailer that surely had teeth, lead into a washrack that had a drain that could suck down Godzilla, and still, he survived! Rev was nervous, there was poop; on the driveway, in the trailer, in the washrack, there was poop. He really did do well. Rev has only had two owners before myself. So this is, in my world of unicorns and rainbows, the third place he's lived. I do realize that he's probably resided in more homes than he has had owners. When we loaded him in the trailer, he didn't want to go. I don't begin to really know why he didn't want to go into that trailer. I have my ideas; one of which is that because his life had been recently shaken up he was in no mood to have that happen again; trailers...

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You don't have to climb into the ring with the gorilla.

I'm often viewed as passive. I refuse to believe that a physical reaction is anything but that; a reaction, and a stupid one at that. This is not to say that I do not get angry enough to want to physically punish someone for a hurt caused to me or a being I love. That is a huge misconception. I've tried many times to write on this subject. There is a phrase that dances around in my head every time I sit down and attempt to explain my feelings surrounding violence. I choose, every single time, not to use it. It's melodramatic and belongs in a poem, buried beneath metaphor. Truth is I don't believe in violence. I have never believed that wacking someone, human or otherwise, taught them anything other than "If you do this you will get wacked and that will hurt". It effectively teaches...

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