Riding Floyd.

I don’t think I’ve ever told you about the time I rode Floyd. Well, if you can call it that. Floyd’s old owner told me that his kids used to ride him so he should be fine to ride. However, that same guy said he used to feed Floyd too so I was apprehensive to take Floyd for any sort of gallop in the field.

This past summer, I was feeling brave. So, without a helmet or a saddle or bridle or health insurance, I climbed onto Floyd’s back. I imagined that he would take off running and leave me lying face down in the dirt. I mentally prepared myself for the worst. Would Floyd be the ultimate bucking bronco?  Would he go running far far away with me hanging on for my life?  Would someone need to call 911?

So, I attempted to hoist myself up and onto Floyd’s back. He just stood there while I tried unsuccessfully to throw my leg and jump onto him.  So, we moved over to the mounting block (a mounting block is a lazy cowboy booster. Like a ladder.)  At the mounting block, I threw my leg over him and landed somewhat softly on his back. He just stood there. Then I gave him a kick. He just stood there. Another kick. He just stood there.  No matter what i did, Floyd just stood there. Like a statue. So, I did what any normal horse person would do. I decided that Floyd and I would have a photo shoot and pretend we were circus performers (you know if circus performers wore running shoes and zero sequins) .




Jazz Hands!

Jazz Hands!


Side Saddle!

Side Saddle!

I didn’t have the guts to stand all the way up on him but I bet you he would have just stood there. He stood like this without making attempts to eat grass or run away for a good half hour. I think maybe this weekend I’ll try to ride him for real. I’ll keep you posted.


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