I've neglected the blog a bit - that's actually putting it nicely - ok, so I've treated the blog like an unwanted stepchild. And I can say that honestly because I was one. :) Anyhow, I figured it was time to check in and give a scintillating Tuff update that will undoubtedly have you on the edge of your seat...
First and foremost, Tuff is officially mine! I've been holding back from saying that for so long for fear that should I actually utter or even dare to write the words, it would somehow erase the reality of it and would not be. And that would be devastating. But I think considering I've now crossed the line into the borderline obsessive "I love my horse so much that corny love songs on the radio conjure up thoughts of him before my significant other" world of horse ownership. I've ordered the embroidered halter with "Tuff" boldly emblazoned across the nose band. I've matched his polo wraps to his lead rope to his curry comb to the grooming bag to the color of my eyes. I catch myself cooing "Tuffy Tuffy Tuffy Tuff!" out loud, in public places, at just the mention of his name or a glimpse of his picture. And this happens pretty frequently - his picture is my desktop on my work computer. You can imagine the looks of concern that are directed my way on a daily basis.
But what a fantastic thing to be a little insane about. His mood swings aside, he's one of the best things to ever happen to me. I love him for his slightly bi-polar ways. As a matter of fact, I marvel at his intelligence...and it's more than just a proud owner speaking.
On Sunday, I decided to indulge him more than usual since it would be days before I saw him again. The barn was quiet, so I gave him free run in the arena. He promptly rolled, bucked, broke wind and tossed his head in a defiant manner as if - ha ha, silly human! - THIS had been his plan all along. Then he ignored me, per usual, until I stopped watching him. I was delighted to catch him in a rare moment of brief panic (or should I say, insulted disbelief) that I had walked away and left him to his own devices. He immediately trotted towards me, head held unusually high, and foraged in my jacket pocket for a treat. As if this was my penance for not being 100% attentive to him. Noticing a break in the clouds, I took him for a walk around the property and when he realized we were heading in the direction of the pasture, he picked up his gait until he was doing a full blown jog at my side, snorting merrily all the way. After grazing for a few moments, I foolishly decided it was time to go back to the barn and he and I began a wrestling match in the pasture. Me - five foot six Scandinavian waif - versus Tuff, 16.1 hands high half ton Quarter Horse machine. After briefly checking to make sure no one witnessed this absurd scene, I was able to guide him back to the barn. Once he was in cross ties, I again made the foolish decision that today I would have NO troubles lifting his feet and it would NOT take me longer than 15 minutes to pluck mud from one hoof. As I bent over (easy target) and sternly commanded him "Tuff! FOOT!" in my wannabe authority figure voice, he reached his enormous head around and bit me in the butt.

On a more professional note (she says with wounded pride), I have updated the PHH main website. It's a bit of work, but is coming along nicely. Vegas and Halo newly updated pages and Halo's new picture is an amazing testament to how far she has come. www.peoplehelpinghorses.com