Princess' problem

We are farm sitting for friends. They have four horses, two sheep, a dozen chickens, three dogs, a llama, a donkey, and several cats.

Princess is the charming 35-year-old horse who the other horses tend to pick on. She spends her days in a separate part of the barn, or in her own yard.

She has just walked past the kitchen window for the third time in as many minutes. Something is bothering her. I go outside.

Me: What's the matter?

Princess: I don't like that thing.

Me: (looking around) What thing?

Princess: That thing.

She's pointing her nose at the pickup truck. A blue garbage bag that I'd shoved into the door to keep out the rain is flapping in the wind.

Princess: I don't like it.

I grab the bag and stuff it into the cab of the truck.

Me: Better?

Princess: Yup. Now let's go inside.

We walk to the barn. I open the door and let her in. She stops on her way to her stall to investigate a canvass sack lying by her food bin.

Princess: What's that?

Me: It's a bag.

Princess: What's in it?

Me: You know what's in it. Keep moving.

She looks at me with giant brown eyes.

Princess: Craig would give me what's in that bag, y'know.

Me: Craig's not here. Get in your stall, you big sook.

She walks into her stall. I remove her halter and hang it on its nail. I reach into the canvass sack and pull out an apple. She snaps it in half with her teeth.

Princess: I knew you'd give me one.

Me: Don't talk with your mouth full.


Misty said...

I like you more and more everyday you know. I'm so glad you have these conversations too.

auntie said...

My children used to insist that the cat did not actually "speak" to me, when I could tell you exactly what she said.

I could tell you exactly what they said too; it usually began with "Oh Mother..."