The horse in my mud room

This morning the Hubbit woke me with the news that Pal, my old horse, had pooped all over the clothes dryer. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” I exclaimed, and rushed to put in my contact lenses so I could see for myself.

A little later he (Pal, not the Hubbit) let rip with another explosion of liquid so gloriously voluminous that I think even Donald Trump would have admired it. That one hit the wall. Shortly after that, he started squealing for his buddy Vos, so I piled soft throws onto his body, added a horse blanket, and let him out into the snowy wastes of our backyard. He immediately headed to the corral, where he and Vos had a touching reunion. (Vos is also old – they’re both somewhere north of 25 years – but he didn’t succumb to hypothermia, which is why he got to spend last night in his stall as per normal.)

So I called the vet again to bring him up to speed, and we agreed that he didn’t need to come see it for himself, and then I told the Hubbit that it was no longer urgent, or even necessary, to clear the driveway, but by then he was bundled up and sufficiently pissed off with the weather that he didn’t care what I had to say. He sent the boys off down the driveway with shovels, and carried on trying to get his tractor to start – not an easy task in the kind of cold we’re experiencing.

I came back inside and fed the dogs. (They’re back on a meat diet, to their great, if flatulent, joy. Today they had lungs that were floating around two feet above our pasture just a few weeks ago. Yum!) Then I contemplated the mud room. I thought of taking a picture to share with you, but decided even the Hubbit’s fancy Canon Rebel T3 wouldn’t be able to do it justice, and anyway some sights are better left to the imagination. Instead, here is a snapshot the Hubbit took with his phone last night, after Pal warmed up enough to start showing an interest in things, but before he recovered enough to explode.

For alternative views of the mud room without a horse in it, go here.

After pondering the mud room for a while, and wincing at the kitchenly chaos next door, and contemplating the muddy footprints and furballs all over the floor in the rest of the house, and musing upon the various increasingly urgent projects piled up next to my computer, I decided that the only rational thing to do was to write my first blog post of the year.

I know it’s been a long time. Shit has been happening, and I’ve been thinking about Stuff, and also working on a new novel series, and I got sucked back into Facebook, and frankly I’d got to wondering whether there was any point in continuing with this blog. I mean, what exactly am I trying to do here? I have lots of thoughts about all sorts of things, but I’ve come to realize that most of them have already been articulated – usually more coherently – by other people. Do I really want to add to the noise in the world? Of course, most of my bloggish writing is random bits and pieces about my life, and I’d been thinking that’s not so special – why would anyone want to read about the daily musings, amusings and doings of some bint on a not-quite-farm just outside Smalltown USA?

This morning I realized that I may be the only person in the world who is happy that a horse shat on her clothes dryer. That has to count for something. So … no promises regarding content or regularity, but I’m back. Happy new year, y’all! It’s shaping up to be interesting!


Author: Belladonna Took

Well into my second half-century and still trying to figure out what to be when I grow up. Born South African, naturalized American, perpetually at risk of losing my balance and landing ass-first in the Atlantic.

37 thoughts on “The horse in my mud room”

  1. Honey, that is the greatest thing I’ve been reading for a long time. You had an slightly cold horse in your mud room. I can’t tell you how much I admire you for having him inside! Bless you and bless your witty and funny writing. Don’t stop!


    1. Well, thank you, Iris – I really appreciate the encouragement. I must say, though, that I wouldn’t have brought him in if he was just “slightly cold” … It’s not unusual to see them moseying around with icicles clustered around their feet and ears, in this weather. But the poor old guy was so cold he couldn’t stop shivering, no matter what we did. His entire system was shutting down. We had to get him warm or let him die … and to be honest I was worried that he might die in the mud room because if he had, we wouldn’t have been able to get him out in one piece. But it worked out, and gave me a funny story to tell, so all is good!


  2. Well, I want to read about the musings, amusings and doings. They amuse me. And make me think of doing things. So please don’t stop. Remember that all blogs started with someone who just decided to natter in writing about their little corner of the world and most of the ones I really enjoy are just people telling funny stories about what’s happened in that space 🙂

    I’m very glad to hear Pal pooped on the clothes dryer. I hope you moved the clothes from the top of it before that happened.


    1. The stuff on top of it, that you see in the picture, is various throws and dog blankets that I had heated in the clothes dryer and put on him (under the horse blanket) when we were trying to warm him up outside. So some got a bit mucky, but no worries – we have a washing machine.

      Thanks for the encouragement, Girl Child. Ditto to you!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Peg… 🙂 I got so down in the dumps after that damn election, everything I had planned to write about seemed just too trivial. But it’s good to be back. This is a fun place to be!


  3. Wow. Horse inside. Wow. Horse shat on the dryer and wall. Wow, wow! I have country roots, but I am waaayyyyy too citified for this! LOL.

    Thanks for a great story, and great to see you writing again! 🙂 Happy New Year!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Also, I just want to say … You may very well have found a different solution, but there is no way you’d have left an old horse outside to die – and he would have died. Literally the only other choice I had was to have the Hubbit shoot him. We couldn’t even get the vet to come; not only was he out of town, but even if he’d been available he wouldn’t have been able to get up our driveway through the snow. So … I don’t know what you’d have done, but you’d have done something, city girl or no!

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Dear ABM, I envy you… small dog, small poop – oh those were the days for us.

          When feeding kibble, our dogs go thru 200 lbs a month; same goes when we are feeding ‘au natural’ …. we feed 7 lbs a day to our canines – i.e., 210 lbs/month.

          The horses eat an 80lb, small bale of hay every two days; Our cattle are presently demolishing a 1,000 lb big bale of hay every five days…all of which ultimately becomes poop as well. My darling spouse, Belladonna, has us save all the livestock poop , which we compost and then use as fill for her raised-bed gardens.

          Ah, ‘Country Life’ ! ! ! <but we’d have it no other way>…

                    -=<< Mister Took, aka The Hubbit >>=-

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Sweetheart … the dogs don’t eat 7lb meat per day. They eat 7 lb meat PER MEAL. All of it cut and weighed by the fair (but wrinkly) hands of She Who Wears Your Wedding Ring.


  4. I know it’s been a long time. Shit has been happening

    I know you’re speaking about other stuff, but that had me laughing considering how you started this post.

    I’ve felt the way you descirbe here. Others are so much more eloquent at expressing their opinions; why would anyone want to read mine? But in the past year I’ve come to realise something thanks to my colleagues. Automattic’s unofficial motto is Democratise Publishing. What we mean by that is that we want everyone to have a voice online.

    It’s not about who reads your stuff. It’s about having a voice, a place where you can make yourself be heard. Let yourself be heard. We’re at least a few people here on the interwebs who love reading what you write. That sould also count for something, shouldn’t it?

    P.S. I have to ask: are you doing the launtry again or just gonna burn it?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Herman, how nice of you to drop in! And thank you for the encouragement – I like that: “It’s not about who reads your stuff. It’s about having a voice.” So … hmmm … what does my voice have to say on the subject of laundry … Oh, honey, poop doesn’t scare me. Laundry scares me a LOT – you can lose yourself in that stuff! But poop? Meh.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I like your blog Belladonna, but please try to be a bit more original. If I’ve read one post about a horse pooping and peeing in someone’s mud room, I’ve read at least twenty.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Al, King Solomon himself said there was nothing new under the sun – and that was YEARS ago! I don’t even have a houseful of nubile young bodies to stimulate my imagination … I have to make do with dogs, horses and chickens. And of course the Hubbit, but he’s not especially nubile… 😦

      Liked by 1 person

  6. I like reading your blog, Val. Sh*t or bust! I save the notification until I have a moment to read it properly…..

    I get you about not having been around for a while and needing to get back into it. Having done one so far this year, I’m hoping to do 2 a month until I get back into the groove.

    Our animal tribulations are a lot smaller, but no less hectic – especially with a summer cold and no voice. Literally. We acquired a kitten a week before Christmas. He doesn’t need tik. I need rescue remedy, especially when he steals hunting trophies from one of the others, eats the remains. Guess who has to deal with the aftermath which exudes from both ends?

    Anyhow, am planning to introduce Gandalf’s Gambols (I think) in the next wee while…

    Be well and welcome back!


      1. Hi, Val! It was a bit of both! I’m a sucker for kittens and we had decided that the existing two were enough. That said, we came to the conclusion that a male might be an idea to deal with Monster Cat. The story’s brewing….

        Liked by 1 person

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