Mahogany Bay Arabian For Sale

The Nikster is thinking of biting me. There's a hankering for human flesh in his big brown eyes.

Can't say I blame him. I've been struggling with his right front hoof for at least ten minutes. It hasn't rained in months and everything is either mummified or petrified with his hooves being the latter. The nippers aren't making so much as a dent in his granite hard hooves.

I feel his attention on my posterior. "No biting!" I growl. He turns away, his sigh long and deep. A few seconds later, he's chomping on the metal gate, big teeth ringing against metal. This isn't new. The sky blue paint has long been scraped off the metal.

The Nikster is not a patient animal. Neither am I. Sweat is starting to run down my nose and I'm muttering something about "glue factory." He stamps at non-existent flies even though he's dripping with fly repellent. His hoof squirms in my grasp and the nippers nip my flesh. My cursing wilts what little plantlife is still alive on our property.

Five minutes later, I finish the hoof and call it a day. Trimming Nikster's hooves is like writing; you take the smallest victories.

Writing...
Cranked out the requisite 1000 words yesterday. I've really reached the point where I can't go any farther without dealing with the dark sucking plot-hole issues. Must brainstorm.

Have a happy weekend. May your chores be few and less odious than hoof trimming.
Pat K.