Until a few days ago, I only owned a pair of half calf rain boots which has made it exciting to retrieve the hippo from her wallow.
|A daily occurrence, both sides|
I gave up on the short rain boots once I realized mud was consistently getting within an inch of the top, and that was staying on the high ground! The hippo? Well, she seemed to have figured out my predicament. In typical mare fashion, she's using the advantage with brutal efficiency.
Arrive at the barn, horse is by the gate. Arrive at the field with a halter and ...
|Were you talkin' to me? Come closer, I can't quite hear you.|
I swear I can hear her giggling when this happens. Sometimes, she waits until she sees me headed for the gate and then calmly strolls off. When she's really trying to screw with me? She'll move off so all I can see are cheerfully pricked ears as she hangs out at the bottom of the pit. The ears that say "Are there snacks? Do I hear a magic bucket? No? Then come back later."
But!!! Victory is mine! I've given in and bought a pair of knee high neoprene boots that will take me across the sea of mud to the mischievous mare. No more waving buckets, peppermints and peanut butter Clif bars in the hopes of luring her closer to an island, near the gate.
|... or did I? My wallet is lighter, that's not usually a win ...|
Of course, now that I've bought the boots, the sun is going to emerge to shine continuously and the mud will vanish. But we all knew that right?