The Thing That Most Terrifes Me

Today, my dear friend, Melissa, sent me and dear-friend Lisa a photo of some ferrets. God knows why... I think it was intended as a "Oh, hello from a cute, furry, little bunch of animals" sort of email.

No thank you. Though, I grew up with a love of animals and even wanted to be a veterinarian someday (until I realized I'd have to do gross stuff and not just play with dogs all day), I know what a ferret smells like. It's not good. It's not particularly bad, just musty. And I can only assume that 5 of them together would smell 5 times worse than 1.

So, I responded with: "AHHH!!! WTH!! That's almost worse than 'the animal we do not speak of,'" which is, of course, the (whispers) "miniature horse." I included this pic of one in a kitchen. He clearly broke in through a back door intending to murder the homeowners as they slept in their beds.

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M's resonse: "OMG! L. LOVES those!!!! I'll just go ahead and take that as a no ROFL."

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Then L writes: "I want one!!!"

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Oops. I felt the need to explain myself...
L, if you like miniature horses, I think that’s great and wonderful, and I will support you 100% and shower you with miniature pony charms and pendants (spoiler alert: they would just be regular-sized pony charms and pendants).

I cannot explain my fear of miniature horses. I admit it’s irrational and silly. One day, Mark said that he had driven past a farm that had one and I, with my childlike sense of wonder and curiosity, excitedly agreed to let him drive me there to see this spectacle of the equine world.

We drove down long, winding, dirt roads to a small field. Mark pulled over, right next to the fence, where one was feeding. I rolled down the window, took one look at it, and for some strange reason said…

AHHH!!! DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!













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L's response: "Aww, sorry, G. Is it the fact that they're mini, when they're not supposed to be? Like, would you be freaked out if you saw mini giraffes walking around here? Okay, everyone probably would be in that case."

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I tried to understand my fear... I wrote:

I’m seriously crying, I’m laughing so hard.

First of all, I love midgets. < I can't even type that without losing it over here.
So, I don’t think it’s the "small" thing.

And, honestly, that mini-horse in the kitchen is pretty cute. If he did the dishes, I’d be signing a marriage certificate as I write this.

I’m really having to delve into my psyche to sort this one out. You know how horses are fast, graceful, and somewhat unpredictable? I think, in my mind, that mini horse had big-horse powers. And, if that was the case, could it not leap into my window? Could it not hoof me in the face or bite me with its miniature-horse teeth!?

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M jumped in: Omgggg I’m dyyyyinggggggggggggggg!!

I love you two so effing much……

I think you hit the nail on the head with the big horse prowess in little form… it boggles my senses and intuition… swift as a Clydesdale without the height and intimidation. Which just makes it more intimidating…. ?...

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L enters the below image into evidence of equine cuteness:

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In response to M and L: Yes, exactly!! It’s like Gandalf became hobbit-sized… a thought which I can’t even begin to entertain with my mortal brain.

Then, take Harry Potter, for example – small frame, huge wizard powers.

That horse is about to get thrown a quarter-mile… But, I admit, it may only be because he’s so overwhelmed by the cuteness. (heart)

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The conversation then took a strange turn, to submissive horses (Thanks, M!), and L said, "It was obviously just a mama horse protecting her baby... probably from Gretchin." Guilty as charged.

As I went to transfer this conversation to my blog, I realized that the original image M had actually sent me was of sloths, not ferrets.


So, I wrote: "Wait a minute, those were sloths?? I thought they were ferrets. Nevermind."

And if this story needed a moral, it would be... Mondays aren't so bad. Love you, ladies!