Wednesday, October 20, 2010

10-12-10 Harley Meets The Neighbors

Freakie Redneck Neighbor Dude, Meet Harley!

Geez, I really wish it had been such a cheerful interaction. I gathered Harley up, started to brush, pick hooves, and "dress him". The flies are back at the house, swarming faces and legs. I sprayed his body, sprayed his legs, raised my arm to spray his face, wazoo!

Harley tugged, and pulled, and blew a gasket. Took off, yanking the nylon lead from my tender fingers, leaving flesh behind on the rope. Straight towards the barn, Ransom and Romeo watching intently from their stalls, snickering at me, no doubt. I gathered him up with gentle voice, squirt bottle still in-hand.

I got close, I raised my arm with the bottle in it, wahzoo! There he goes again. Only this time, he ran towards the road, again, removing yet some more skin from my fingers. Of course, in his wisdom, Harley didn't retreat to his pasture. Nah, he whizzed right by the open gate, up the fenceline, and straight into the woods seperating me and my scary neighbor.

[Note: Scary Redneck Neighbor Guy has earned his name well. Among his feats, are swatting standard golf balls *towards* my house, one landing right in front of a jump when I was schooling Romeo, inviting me to his yard aboard Mo one day, while screaming at me on another to "stay off his #*&^$ property", and my all-time favorite, practicing his rifle skills *towards* Ransom's pasture shortly after his arrival. He has earned his name well. This spring, SRNG had some of that wooded peace cleared, leaving a visual path from his garage door, to my front porch. He's certainly freaking SRNG. YUCK!]

I walked through the woods, mulling over all the things I did wrong, and what I was going to do when I finally caught him. Because, face it, he can't get too far, before he'll either spook at the dog breeder down the road, or run into something else scary, and head back for home.

I found him, in SRNG's back yard. See, SRNG has installed a deer feeder, which had very recently dropped corn and other edible nummies to the grass below. Harley was helping himself.

I caught him, walked him back to the house, grabbed my gloves, and went straight to the overgrown round pen. An enclosed area, and a small one at that, secured fence, and far from the street. There, I showed Harley that, while he doesn't have to LOVE fly spray, he has to tolerate it, and the benefits that result.

Harley none worse for wear, and my fingers filled with raw skin, blisters, and burning pain, we swiftly called it a day after that.

*And I had big plans.. We were going to lunge in the bit for the first time, and hop hop hop around him and over him again. dagnabbing fly spray, and SRNG!*

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