>> back in the saddle again [ Posey ]

[rain]

Hopping from the cab of the broad diesel, Oliver slammed the door in place and twirled his keys on one finger, whistling the introductory chords of "Back in the Saddle" as covered by Aerosmith. The whistling transitioned to humming, which by the time he reached the rear of the trailer, had moved to singing aloud the lyrics in perfect pitch. Just as he swung the door wide, he air-guitar'd the chorus and screeched in a Steven Tyler fashion, "I'm BAAAAACK!" Peering in at the big, black beauty, he smiled upon the stud and leaned against the mouth of the trailer, tilting his head inquisitively. "How was the ride, bub? Come see me and we'll check this place out together."

Usually, Oliver made it a point to case the barn he was going to be using, but he'd heard enough good things about Bar-B to just take it at gossip value. Casting an observational gaze around the facility readily seen by him, he made mental notes of key parts such as the arena, roundpen, and the barn itself. The place was relatively dead today, something he was thankful for just in case the embodiment of Mr. Hyde decided to make its debut.

[poseidon]

[ oookay so I was slow and didn't finish reading the other post before it was archived and now I'm super duper lazy and so I'm.. making shit up as I go along. =D it's what I do best. ]

Poseidon was less than amused. His gaze leveled on Oliver with a very blatant and very distinct Eat Shit And Die, Douchebag expression, but placidly and subduely he pivoted partially in the trailer, bending lithely to scrape his shoulder harmlessly against the wall as he perfected a 900 point turn within the Sundowner's walls. With his half of a shitty little rein hanging from his halter, it was little to slow him down - no worries to step on it at least - and he walked loudly and with purpose to the back of the open trailer.

His eyes never left Oliver's as he reached the edge of the trailer. Instead, the big back marbles narrowed slightly before glancing away, down at his feet at the little 4 to 5 inch drop from the trailer to the ground. Taking a heaving sigh, the stallion did what only he could do. Guaranteed - no other horse at this barn would perform such a feat in motion.

He jumped it.

Leaping out, front legs snapped high and rear legs shoving off the trailer (which protested with a metallic groan), he flew off the back with all four feet simultaneously. He grunted with delight and practically struck a pose mid-air ("LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!"), landing heavily, legs quivering. He reverted to his previous pluggish nature, standing innocently by Oliver's side, ears heavenward with a serene expression. He had no reason to be upset - yet - and he was known for being a fairly honest horse. So why bother? No.. he was just having fun.

[rain]

Oliver did well to stand clear to the side of the trailer, watching with his mouth agape as the giant stallion leapt into the air with the greatest of ease. He caught the trailer's enormous shift as the horse's weight was distributed for launch, barely moving his foot in time to avoid the rollback that would have easily crushed his toes. It was all he could do not to laugh as the image was burned into his brain - Enormous black equine midair in a total flair for Broadway. Quite comical indeed. But as reality set in, for a brief moment, a surge of panic welled in him as he expected the stud to make a break for freedom once his feet hit the ground.

Once all four feet were on the ground, it was quite clear the stud wasn't out to escape and Oliver quickly took up the shoddy leather rein attached to his halter. Not like it would stop him, but it made Oliver feel better. Chuckling almost nervously under his breath, he patted the broad neck lightly as he shook his head in lingered amusement. "Well, that was entertaining." Locking up the trailer, he turned the stud about and proceeded up toward the barn. Keeping to the massive monster's shoulder, Oliver paused at the mouth of the barn to check the white board for stall assignments. Considering he hadn't acquired a horse yet, there was simply a block marked "Oliver" and assumed that was the stall given to him.

"C'mon Mister." Stepping off into the barn, Oliver continued to hum a bit of Aerosmith, keeping his peripherals on his new mount. Pausing at the appropriate stall, Oliver's face immediately fell. Bare bones empty, not even prepped. What the hell did he pay them extra for, then? Grumbling and clearly in a different disposition than when he had entered the barn, he wrinkled his nose and turned their direction around to exit the barn. Bee-lining for the arena now, noting it was completely empty, he shoved the gate open with a growl. "Alright guy, wreak havoc in the arena while I get your room set up." This time, he flipped the craptastic leather hanging from the halter off its ring and wadded it up into his palm. Stepping away, he mildly flung his arms out with a kiss or two to send Poseidon off to investigate the arena.

[poseidon]

Poseidon found himself dragging his feet as he followed behind Oliver with a turdtastic expression on his face. Barns were no fun, barns meant being cooped up and cooped up was not something this iron-willed beast of .. oh hell, just "beast" worked - put up with for very long. Dragging his feet with his head low, he found himself lead to the arena.

Both ears came forward suspiciously as he watched Oliver with a funny sort of expectant stare, shooed away (and yet, not moving an inch) from the tall European before flicking a gaze around to look at the arena briefly. Finding it was both vacant (eh, tolerable) and filled with jumps (even more fun when idiots don't put their things away), he tore off, bucking, kicking, and throwing the occasional fart in when he felt one knocking.

Darting in serpentine fashion around various poles and invisible objects alike, he lost track of his position, skittering sideways and bouncing off an oxer before leaping sideways and turning in time to correct himself and dart over the kiddish 12-incher with miles to spare - vastly over-jumping. One short stride and he had completely straightened himself out; taking a half-step before launching himself long and lean over the next hiccup of a jump. Three more strides and the kiddie class had thrown in a hazard; a blue non-skid mat supposedly representing water (but looked nothing like it, truly) and now, at a trot, he threw in a longer popcorn type jump.

Satisfied he had annihilated the makeshift course and imaginary crowd with his gorgeous performance, the stallion trotted back to the middle of the arena to collapse in a heap of dust and rolling generously. He was still parked on his side and half-snoring when Oliver arrived to fetch him.

[rain]

Oliver left the arena in a brisk jog, busying himself with preparing the large box, grumbling as he worked. Tossing the shavings about the stall in a violent fashion, he kicked a pile in frustration as he took out his anger on the inanimate objects at hand. 'Fine waste of money. I said be ready yesterday. I gave them a large window to work with.' Huffing, he took a final look over the stall, retrieved the hay he had snagged on the way in, and dumped it in the rack. Finally, he strode to the rear door that opened up to the fifteen foot pen adjacent to the stall and enclosed by six feet of galvanized panels. Double-checking the rear gate and satisfied it was indeed locked, he paused as he caught the tail end of Poseidon's relay race around the school-level jump spread in the arena.

Arms braced on the gate, he watched in awe as he felt his negativity begin to melt away. He was enthralled by the stallion, incredibly appreciative of how he moved, carried himself, and used his body regardless of the obstacle. He was so sharp, too! Could it possibly be he had finally found an animal who could keep up with him? His heart leapt at the thought, the feeling almost too good to be true. Squinting, he watched in confused curiosity as the black brute stood fixed in the center of the arena, making a shuffle in place. Finally, it was clear what he was up to and Oliver laughed through his nostrils as he watched the stud drop to the sand and proceed to roll to and fro before propping himself up on his side. Guessing the horse had had enough of the arena, Oliver backtracked through the pen, out of the stall, and into the barn's breezeway again. He paused at one of the public tack rooms that he had set up his gear and snatched up a 14' black cotton lead as he went and proceeded out of the barn.

Strolling around the corner, he found himself at the arena gate and slipped inside, latching it behind him. Coiling the second half of the lead in his hand, his thumb clicked the snap repeatedly out of habit as he crossed the arena towards the resting equine. "Hey there, Booboo. D'ja have a good run?" Lilting British tone slipped through his vocal chords and lapped over his tongue as he spoke, stopping a few feet from the prone beast and throwing his weight onto his hip. Clicking lightly, he mildly twirled the last few feet of the lead to encourage him to rise to his feet again. He wasn't quite comfortable just strolling on up to him quiet yet.

[poseidon]

The words of Jim Croce echoed in his head for some odd reason - horses didn't understand the meanings of words or the words even themselves, but they understood tones and inflection; and for some odd reason the tune was playing through his head. It was like elevator music, something you tap your toe to while waiting for the pointless but necessary intermission to be over and arrive at your floor. Poseidon's ears flicked forward, hearing Oliver approach over this imaginary but very real music. Hum dum dum movin' me down the highway, rollin' me down the highway, movin' ahead so life won't pass me by...

With a heft and a grunt the stud was on his feet, allowing Oliver to approach and reconnect a lead - this time a proper one - to his halter. He followed without any drama, having temporarily sated his need for both attention and exercise. Temporarily was the key statement there. and I carry it with me and I sing it loud, if it gets me nowhere I'll go there proud... The incessant elevator music was mildly annoying. Hmmm.. I believe in humans they would diagnose this as psychotic. Perhaps Dr. Benjamin would have something to say about this situation. Oh, but wait, he couldn't sing out loud; alas his plight was a silent one.

Twitching his head in time to the imaginary but again very real music, Poseidon followed Oliver up the aisleway to be deposited in his new home, entering the stall neatly and pivoting on his fore to face the European for his halter to be removed. Once released, his nose first found his feed, pulling mouthful after mouthful of hay out of the hanging basket and pressing it firmly - smushing it in, really - to his automatic waterer, dropping what didn't fit onto the ground and gazing at his feeder for more.

[rain]

Oliver was more than relieved to find that Dr. Jekyll was still inhabiting the beast who possibly possessed dual personalities. Not quite dropping his guard, but sucking in a relaxed breath as they shortened the distance to the barn, Oliver still kept a keen eye out for anything that might piss him off. They strolled into the barn leisurely, twirling a few inches of lead in his free hand as he whistled along with another random tune. He was thankful for having an empty barn to occupy at the moment. He wasn't the most social of creatures, honestly. Unless he had already established a positive association with someone, he'd just as soon go on with his life and his business and not be bothered.

Having deposited the big, black hurricane in the box he once thought was spacious, he looked on as the monster made himself at home. He dwarved the 14x14 stall now and Oliver wrinkled his nose at how cramped he looked. Maybe he could pay a bit extra and take over one of the larger 16x16 birthing stalls. He made a mental note to talk with the owners later. His train of thought was crashed as he heard the slosh of water and he caught sight of the stud soaking his hay. Immediately, he frowned. He hadn't gone to look up his tongue yet, but given how he was sold and the behavior for which he was displaying, no doubt he needed a good floating.

"Alright, pal, I get it. Your mouth hurts." Which meant no riding until he got the task accomplished. Grumbling, he summed himself up to the fact he had indeed purchased a project and it would take some detailing and fine tuning to get him ready to ride. Until then, he could get him working on the ground, and that would suffice. He half expected his cantankerous nature was attributed to the pain in his mouth, and then thinking a bit further, he suspected the stud might benefit from seeing a chiropractor as well. No doubt he could jump the moon, but Oliver found it imperative the animal do it comfortably, otherwise he'd come to hate his job in time. Did the current vet do chiropractics? Something told him that he didn't, not many vets delved into that kind of therapy.

Pushing away from the stall, Oliver strode to the tack room and fished out a dandy brush and hoof pick. Returning to the box, he slipped inside and sidled up to the stud's left shoulder while he munched, proceeding to run the brush over the entirety of his ebony frame. Bristles knocked the remnants of sand away to reveal a coat that would eventually shine once he was kept on a nutritious and supplement-filled diet. And when he could chew properly, but that would come soon enough. "No worries, mate. We'll get your mouth sorted out tomorrow." Working around to his other side, careful to keep himself snug to the big black ass, he made the same routine with the brush on the stud's right side before chucking the brush out over the half door to land with a thud in the aisle. Stooping slightly, he kept one hand on the horse's shoulder as the other traveled down the back of his knee, leaning lightly to encourage his weight off it as he gave a stern order. "Foot."

[poseidon]

Poseidon huffed, munching on some tendrils of coastal as he allowed himself - allowed Oliver - to be groomed. Cocking his hind leg, he was mostly oblivious when his new owner requested his foot, flicking one ear at him sideways in an 'Are you serious?' sort of method. It only took a moment for the big stud to consider his options, weigh them seriously, and then decide he did not in fact want to give Oliver his foot. Instead, he leaned on that foot more than the others, remaining rock solid.

He hadn't expected the pesky European to give up, and as expected to, Oliver repeated the order with another shove, another verbal, and a pinch on the back of the ankle. To this, Poseidon lifted his foot partially and let the heel come off the ground, letting his leg weigh a million pounds as Oliver lifted it. He wasn't in pain, nor was he usually bad for his feet -- he just thought it might be interesting to be difficult. After a moment of letting him struggle, Poseidon snapped the foot up to barrel level, narrowly avoiding clipping Oliver's chin.

Now, instead, he leaned the other way, against the stall wall. His foot bobbed lightly as he contemplated jerking his foot away and thought better of it, realizing what damage a hoof pick to the barrel could do - makeshift spur - and also realizing the damage he could do to Oliver should he react to such a situation. Intelligent? Yes. Stubborn? Doubly. Huffing as Oliver made the round to all four feet, he was slightly more willing on the last three, being sure to smack the blond in the face as often as possible with his ground-sweeping tail. After a few smacks or two to the back of the head, he was sure to jerk the sandpaper hair around to smack him in the chest as well. Had to be sure he got both sides.

At one point, he twisted to view Oliver's derriere, considering - albeit, briefly, but still considering - to bite him square on the asscheek. Teeth bared, he was mid-chomp when he thought better of it, jerking his head away and pretending to be innocent of any and all charges. This horse deserved a Grammy.