Chubs, the Little Horse

Hey friends, it’s Chubs again.

Apparently, it’s that time of year when hoomans celebrate something called the Fourth of July. From what I can tell, it involves flags, food, sparkly explosions in the sky, and—unfortunately—costumes.

Now, let’s address the biggest part first: fireworks.

They don’t scare me. Not even a little. I mean, they’re loud, sure. But I’ve heard louder. (Finnick trying to escape blanket duty comes to mind.) I’ve seen some of the horses at the barn get a little jumpy, and I get it. They boom, they crackle, and the sky lights up like someone set the stars on fire.

Do I understand the appeal? Not really. You have to stop grazing and tilt your head way back just to look at them. I did it once. Missed a whole mouthful of clover. Not worth it.

And now we get to the part I’m truly concerned about—the outfits.

My little girl gets very excited around holidays. She’s got tinsel, streamers, bows, and—heaven help me—patriotic hats. Last year she tied a sparkly red ribbon to my tail and told me I looked “festive.” I didn’t even know what that meant, but she was happy, so I stood there like the very cooperative pony I am.

This year, I’ve already seen a bag labeled “Chubs’ Fourth of July Look.” That can’t be good. I’m not saying I want to be dressed like a walking flag… but if she insists, I’ll stand still for my makeover. Because that’s what you do for the hoomans you love.

So, here’s wishing all of you a safe, happy, sparkly Fourth of July—whether you’re watching the fireworks, dressing up your animals, or just eating snacks (preferably carrots).

I’ll be out in the pasture, pretending not to enjoy the attention.