In corner stall down yonder
There dwells a distant friend.
I know him just in passing
As he lives at the far end.
He’s got a little “problem.”
And I don’t like to pry, but
Were I in his steel shoes
I know I’d want to cry.
It seems he is allergic
To any kind of treat.
His taste buds must be dreary
With nothing fun to eat.
He can’t have any carrots;
He can’t eat any hay;
Stud muffins are a no-no.
Why him? I often pray.
Somehow he is so stoic
About this nasty turn.
If I were him I’d have a fit,
My insides how they’d churn!
I’d offer him my sympathies
But he’s aloof as he can be.
I guess he’s found a way to cope
Which means there’s more for me!
* * *
It's true, believe it or not. There is a horse in the barn that's allergic to every treat I love!!! I don't know how he manages it. When the treat wrappers are rustling and people are hovered around the carrot bag I am almost crazy with anticipation. From where my stall is located I can see my entourage bustling in and out of the tack room fetching stud muffins, extruded apple chunks and best of all, on Muffin Mondays, Timmies cranberry blueberry bran muffins. And the carrot bag is barely 12 feet away from me!
No, if I were Jack Jack I'd have a BIG problem. In sympathy I always eat his share. I'm sure he appreciates it ...
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