S’up, my adoring fans! It’s me, your new favorite horse, Three Socks, reporting live from my tiny pasture kingdom. Welcome to Straight from the Horse. Yeah, yeah, legal name blah-blah, but let’s not kid ourselves—you’re here for me. The other horses? Who cares. I only bring them up so you can appreciate just how much cooler I am.
Let’s talk about Ms. Buttons. Oh, Ms. Fancy-Pants-With-Her-Sparkly-Hooves thinks she’s so great because she doesn’t roll in mud, free of ticks, and is medically deemed a sound (whatever that means). Oh, Ms Buttons, you think just because you got clean teeth and humans can ride you without getting hurt, that makes you better than me? Newsflash sister, it don’t!
Then there’s Fia, the weird little Shetland Pony. I thought tiny versions of things were supposed to be cute, right? Wrong. I don’t like to admit this, but she kind of scares me. Why does she always hang out in the field with the dead animal bones? Why do I almost lose a hoof every time she’s nice to me? Coincidence? Conspiracy? Happenstance? Shenanigans? Wait—what was I saying?
The Alpha Life: Eating and Leading
Anyway, back to me. Yep, I run this place now that Micky’s retired. Being alpha wasn’t handed to me—I earned it. I’m the biggest, strongest, and let’s face it, best-looking animal on the ranch. Keeping this physique in top form isn’t easy, though. You don’t get a body like mine by standing around. It’s all about the grazing: graze, graze, graze it up! I scour every inch of this tiny pasture looking for grass like it owes me money.
Now, you’d think being alpha would come with perks, like unlimited access to the good stuff in the feed room. But no. The Rancher has this stingy policy of rationing me to just two scoops of grain a day. Two! That’s barely enough to fuel a colt, let alone a powerhouse like me. So, I’ve had to get creative. Pies cooling on windowsills? Fair game. Deer feeder corn? Delicious. And if a construction worker leaves their lunch in the truck with the window down? Well, they’ve basically invited me to help myself (true story). My ultimate score, though, is snagging a full 50-pound bag of feed from the Rancher’s truck. Sure, he usually catches me, but by then, I’ve spilled enough grain on the ground to snack on for days. Alpha strategy, my friends.
A Hero’s Duty
Being alpha is more than just maintaining this solid frame—it’s about protecting the herd. When danger comes knocking, it’s my job to step up. Like the time the Rancher let a screeching little beast onto my turf. It was tiny, four-legged, and had a cry that could pierce your soul. Naturally, I charged it, with no concern for my safety, and chased it right off the property. Turns out, it was something called a Chi…hu…wah…wahwah? It was just some lady’s pet. It’s funny, I see pictures of that thing hung up all around the neighborhood now. A few days later, I saw that dog’s collar hanging from a tree near a hawk’s nest. How on earth it climbed up there I’ll never know.
TV Time
Let’s talk about my hobbies. Besides eating (obviously), I’m a big TV fan. Not those stupid shows Ms. Buttons watches, though—do humans seriously struggle that much with dating? And don’t even get me started on those weirdly shaped women who sit in fancy houses complaining about nothing. BOR-ING.
I like the classics. Give me Van Dyke pratfalls and Van Damme spin kicks over today’s hour long dark, gritty snore-fests any day. What happened to people laughing? Where’s the chaos? Nobody gets hurt or chased by anything anymore. And don’t even mention those “comedies” where the characters point out the jokes they are making. Newsflash: you’re in the joke! Be funny, not self-aware.
Cooking shows are cool, but one question: what happens to the food? Do they just throw it away? Do the camera people eat it? Life’s big mysteries, folks.
Signing Off
Well, that’s all from me for now. I hear the Rancher’s truck rumbling down the gravel road, which means it’s time for me to put my feed-snatching skills to the test. Remember: life is short, so grab it by the feed bag!
Later gators.
-Three Socks 🐎💪🏻
