To Be or Not to Be–Bitten by a Horse
Something occurred to me the other day: I’ve never been bitten by a horse.
Although I had never contemplated the ramifications of being bitten by a horse, or the ramifications of not being bitten by a horse, my life suddenly seemed vacant and purposeless.
Is it possible I’m missing out on something due to my lack of an equine chomping experience?
I sought out information from a blog post about raising horses and it seemed to indicate that you really don’t want to be bitten by a horse.
Note: If you ever need information or entertainment of any type, always go to a blog first; blogs are written by highly intelligent individuals with perpetually minty fresh breath.
I found the following phrase:
But, what starts as cute and innocent nibbling on a sleeve can evolve quickly into ripped clothing, crunched fingers, bruises and teeth marks. So if you have a young horse, don’t allow it to explore you with its mouth.
Interesting advice.
Note: I was considering making a joke here about a girl I once dated, but I just recently got the last lawsuit cleared up.
I may be overthinking this entire horse biting thing, and overthinking things is not an activity to which I am prone.
I was bitten by a dog once and I have to admit: it wasn’t as enjoyable as you might think. I would even go as far as saying it was unpleasant.
I was almost bitten by a goat once. The goat didn’t actually come near me, but he a look of no-good in his eyes. It was unsettling.
I’m beginning to think I should put off any attempt to be bitten by a horse.
If through the course of a normal day’s activities I should happen to be bitten by horse, then fine, but for now, I won’t go looking for it.
I will keep you updated.
At least you can see the horse but no chance against a flea. With all those animals Noah surely had more than 2 on that ark thing.
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But if you lead a flea to water, he will drink.
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Well, I have been bitten by a horse . . . Hard! It made me so mad I socked it in the face and sold it.
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Like Mongo from Blazing Saddles.
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Isn’t that what usually causes one to become a were-horse? Or maybe I watched too many low-budget horror movies when I was a kid. I must admit, there is a certain attraction to the concept of a were-goat.
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Were-goats are all too real; I have several aunts that are were-goats, and a few that are just ugly.
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Just regular goats are ornery enough! I can’t imagine a were-goat. It’s like ornery on top of ornery, wrapped in ornery.
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I’m sensing you think goats are ornery,
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I am hesitant to say. I don’t want them coming after me!
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Wise.
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