I just trimmed a mini horse stud, an Andalusian/Friesian, a Gypsy Vanner, an English Cob, a Tennessee Walker, and 2 other dinks that I could not identify that were all ignorant af and about killed me. IN A CASTLE DUNGEON that looked like the nicest barn you ever saw from the

outside. The house itself looked like a Spanish hacienda form the front and a castle from the back. The lady had Black Sabbath BLASTING on repeat the whole time. She seemed to me like she had eaten way too much acid in her life. The lil Mexican fella she had working for her that

she called “Cheeto” held the horses and every time one of them pulled their foot away or threw me across the barn, he gave em a fuckin cookie. The horses hadn’t been trimmed since May. When I told her that we needed to drug the horses so I could get a better trim and make it a

better experience for the horses and myself, she said, “I’m against drugs, but I can get some mare’s milk and that will comfort them and make them confident and they will behave.”

I’m honestly flabbergasted by this whole situation.