or horses, whatever the technical name for them is.
Don’t ask me what breed they are, because I would have no idea. Draft horses maybe? I just know they look awfully peaceful hanging out in this big field with large gorgeous trees. The babies have gotten big over the summer and get to frolic all day in the sun. Seems like an ideal place to be if you are a horse.
Conversation between me and my dear friend Danny.
Danny: What do they use those horses for?
Me: No clue, but they look happy don’t they?
Danny: They look rather fat if you ask me. Why would they be so fat?
Me: They’re just living the good life. Or maybe they’re “big boned” It’s not nice to make fun of fat horses. They have feelings too ya know. What if they had heard you??
…A short time later I was informed by a well meaning local that the horses are there over the summer to “fatten up” before heading off to Italy to become horse sausage. Every year they get new horses in the spring, they hang out all summer long, then sometime in the fall… Oh. My. God! Then suddenly right after I had been let on to Papa, Hungary’s little secret, all the horses disappeared…
I like to picture them hanging out in a beautiful Italian pasture somewhere. Perhaps in Tuscany. And by picture, I mean still running- all limbs intact. Still neighing and whinny-ing over lame ass horse jokes. Not laying on a platter next to some toast.
I really wish there were days when my brain could be scrubbed of such things, but alas, brain bleach has not yet been invented. (hint-hint for you ivy league kids)