California Riding Magazine • February, 2009

Horsey Humor
A Horse is Not a Pig

by Bob Goddard

Following surgery on her left elbow, my daughter Jamie was in desperate need of somebody to help her take care of her horse, Quando. I knew she was desperate because I was one of the people she asked to help. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of horses. I’ve always made it a practice not to learn that First Thing because it would inevitably be followed by a Second Thing and a Third Thing and a Fourth Thing and I’d end up with a full blown hobby on my hands.

Of course, Jamie wasn’t asking me to become a horseperson. All she wanted was a little help doing the things she couldn’t do with one arm. Lucky for her (and me), she had plenty of other people around to help. The only thing I had to do was muck Quando’s stall. Jamie assured me that this was a very important job. I guess I should have felt honored.

Every day, for two weeks, I cleaned Quando’s stall. I soon learned there is more to mucking a stall than just flipping a few of those round things into a wheelbarrow. According to my little one-armed supervisor I was required to locate and dispose of every last nugget. She used her good arm to point out the ones I missed and she made me dig around to find the ones Quando hid. I figured they were his and if he wanted to keep them, we should let him.

Jamie disagreed: “He sleeps in here, dad!”

“Yes, I know he does, but...”

“How would you like to sleep in your own poop?”

“I don’t suppose I would, but...”

“My horse is not a pig!”

Good point. A horse is not a pig. How can one argue against such a universally accepted fact? A horse is not a pig. A cow is not a goat. A dog is not a fence post. A cat is not a bucket of cream cheese...

“Dad!”

I kept mucking.

After a few days of this, I became a pretty good stall mucker. Like I had a choice. Jamie wasn’t about to let me get away with doing a sloppy job. I knew she was going to make a thorough inspection of my work and it was easier to do it right the first time. It’s kind of like when you know your parents are going to check your homework.
Some people actually enjoy mucking stalls. They say it’s relaxing. They say it helps them think. They say this kind of work is good for the soul. These people are sick. Mucking is dirty, unpleasant work and if you’re not careful, you can ruin your shoes. However, as I became more adept in The Art of Mucking I began to take pride in my work. And I learned to appreciate the skills of other muckers in the barn. As I watched my youngest daughter Hiliary wield her muckrake with the ease and grace of a true expert, I actually felt a tinge of envy. I would like to be that good, I thought. I’m in serious need of counseling, I thought.

Part of my mucking experience included an introduction to a phenomenon known as the “Pee Spot.” Apparently, many horses prefer to pee in only one or two places in their stall. This was a revelation to me. I never figured a horse could be that organized. In any case, Jamie insisted that digging out the Pee Spot was an essential part of mucking. She also said it should be easy to find. It wasn’t. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t see any such spot. I really didn’t believe it existed. I simply dug where Jamie told me to until she was satisfied.

On the last day, I managed to find the Pee Spot on my own. This was something of a milestone in my mucking career. I ran to Jamie, “I think I found it! I think I found it! I think I found the Pee Spot! I believe!” Jamie was overjoyed. She hugged me and said she was proud to be my daughter. It was a happy day in the Goddard family. A very happy day indeed. We all might be due for a bit of counseling, I thought.