Neigh, I Say

“Horses – dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.”  

(the brilliant) Arthur Conan Doyle

I have a long-standing distrust of horses.  Sorry.  It had to be said.  And the reason why it had to be said, now, is because we have sweet friends that are trying in earnest to get me to take the kids horseback riding.  With them.  As in, with the kids. On the horses. That is terrifying to me.  Remember the scene in the movie “The Godfather” where Jack Woltz wakes up next to a horse head on the pillow? Yeah. That? Is my absolute worst nightmare.  True story.  It’ll be a sweet forever before I get myself near enough to a “neigh” that I can actually hear it.

And Sweetman? Oh, he just loves to rib me about it.  Anytime we take a drive down a country road as a family, and we pass horses, he will pull over and announce to the kids, “Ooh, look guys, horses!  Mama LOVES horses! She loves to pet them and brush their teeth and…”.  You get the idea.  And I shoot daggers out of my eyes as I’m a quivering mess until we get back on the road.  Far far away from the horses.

To that end, I heard the most horrifying news report on NPR yesterday.  I should have slammed my finger against that mute button the moment I heard the intro about “A horse is a horse…”, but no.  I just had to listen to the next 5 words. Which were, “…even when it’s a clone.”.  What’s that now? Apparently, scientists have figured out a way to clone horses.  I’m 101% certain that there are folks on this great planet, lo, even in this very country of ours that need food every single day.  Cloning vegetables or grains that can be used to eradicate hunger? Now that seems like a far more worthy scientific endeavor.  But horses?  Sweet Moses!  Don’t we have enough of them roaming the earth as it is?  To that I say, “Nay”!  Not to be confused with “Neigh”.  No, never to be confused with that.  Indeed!

*I apologize to any readers who adore horses and think they are one of God’s most beautiful creatures.  Let’s agree to disagree on this one, kay? (Cuz I have evidence on my keester from a childhood incident supporting my distrust.)  The end.  Literally and figuratively…*