I recently went to the East Coast to visit my friend Kvothe (not her real name) and her amazing family (including her dad who is most likely a CIA agent). In addition to learning how to be a sharp shooter (and discovering I look amazing in protective ear wear), I wanted to do some other touristy things.
Normally I’m not a touristy person and I prefer to look like I’m a local in most places (except Branson. NO ONE should be a local in Branson). In keeping with my new found love of all things touristy, I asked Kvothe if there was a tourist trap nearby where we could shamelessly dump money for an afternoon.
The bar was my first option but it didn’t open until 3:00 p.m. We had some time to kill before we started killing brain cells.
Kvothe is a huge animal lover and she suggested we go to a magical place…a place called The Land of Little Horses. (Yes, it’s actually a real place.) At first I thought she was making it up, and I asked her if the “land” had unicorns and reasonably priced car insurance (both are mythical creatures to me). She said the place actually existed and we should go so I could see for myself. I was intrigued.
We headed to the mythical place and I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t Kvothe’s way of kindly suggesting I drop some pounds. I’m what you would call “fluffy” and Kvothe is what you would call “I hate that b*#ch because she’s skinny.”
Part of me wondered if she was taking me to this place to emphasize that although my ass looks large in my Pajama Jeans, it looks even larger when posed next to a 3 foot horse.
Maybe this was her way of pushing me to the fat girl edge so I would actually take myself to the gym, or at least restrain myself from carbs. I pondered this thought in the car while downing chocolate no-bake cookies.
We arrived at The Land of Little Horses and I swear when we pulled up I saw a rainbow and glitter shoot from the sky. It was located on several acres of land and even the mosquitoes seemed to have a skip in their step…or their flight…whatever.
We purchased two passes for the day and also bought containers of treats for the horses. I know I am nicer to strangers when they present me with baked goods, and I wanted to return the favor to these miniature animals…only with dog food instead of iced animal crackers. (Would that be cannibalism?)
We walked into the magical land and were immediately greeted by a goat who was either pregnant, or she was smuggling a small village into the country. She was huge and ready to eat whatever food we would give her…even if we didn’t offer it.
Fortunately for her, I have a soft spot for fatties, so I gave her some extra treats (and a pamphlet on diabetes) and headed over to see the horses.
As we walked to the horses, we noticed something was following us. We turned around and saw what looked like a horse…only it was shrunken. It was like those Shrinky Dinks I used to make as a kid. You know what I’m talking about.
They started out normal sized but after a quick stint in the oven, they turned into even more useless pieces of clay your mom was forced to wear for a week before throwing out in embarrassment. (Don’t act like you didn’t love making ugly pendants for everyone you knew. You did, and you were horrible at it.)
This Shrinky Dink horse was real and staring me straight in the eyes…or maybe more of the crotch, as that was more his eye level. I looked at him and fell in love instantly. I swear I heard “Dream Weaver” playing in the background, and if I looked closely, I could see him wink at me through his long lashes. I could tell he felt it too.
I went over to him and petted him immediately. I have no idea if miniature horses like to be petted, but I know miniature daschunds do, and I figured they were pretty much the same thing. He loved it and nuzzled up close to me. He kept getting closer and closer…until I realized he was pick-pocketing me for my horse treats. It made me love him more.
I began doling out treats and we became instant friends. Since we’re both completely food motivated, I knew this was going to be a solid friendship. As I stuffed his face with food, an employee walked by and I asked her what my soul-mate’s name was. Apparently his name was Columbus. Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?
After exchanging numbers and promising to keep in touch, I left Columbus because I was hot and needed some air conditioning (and a cooler pair of Spanx). We headed inside a barn for a dog and pony show. No seriously.
It was literally a dog and pony show. There were both dogs and ponies in the act doing various tricks and being ridiculously adorable. I fell in love with one of the performers, who was a collie mix and stole my heart immediately.
I felt badly for betraying Columbus, but the heart wants what the heart wants (and my heart wanted some slobbery dog kisses from the collie.) I named him Louie although I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his name. It might have been Gretchen.
Louie was a typical actor. He was a charmer and worked the room like he owned it. That’s probably what drew me to him. He was a crowd pleaser and only stopped occasionally for the obligatory crotch lick (his…not the crowd’s).
We locked eyes and with one fleeting glance, I knew we weren’t meant to be. Not because he was a canine and I wasn’t. It was because he lived the life of a star, who had so much blaze to him, and I couldn’t be the one to snuff him out. He had to be free. (Well, not really free. You had to pay admission to see him.)
I left The Land of Little Horses with a heavy heart and a happy face. I met two amazing miniature animals that day, both of which put a super sized hole in my heart; a hole that could only be filled with a root beer float.