Chubs, the Little Horse

Hey friends, it’s Chubs.

So, remember how I declared July as National Pony Freedom Month? Yeah… about that.

Shortly after my passionate speech on the importance of pasture lounging and snack rights, I started limping. Badly. My foot hurt like crazy. I tried to tough it out, but my little girl noticed right away. And before I knew it, boom—loaded into the trailer (ugh) and off to the vet.

Now, let me say this: I don’t hate the vet. She’s nice. Talks to me like I’m smart. Gives good scratches. But I’ve been down this road before, and when I saw that big clunky machine rolling toward me, I knew what was coming—X-rays.

The good news? No laminitis flare-up. Praise the pasture gods. I’ve had that before, and let me tell you—it’s no joke. But this time, the culprit was a bit sneakier.

Turns out, all the rain we’ve been getting caused the pad under my shoe to break down and warp. And because of that, I ended up with a nasty hoof bruise. You ever step on a rock wrong and then feel it for days? Multiply that by four hooves and add dramatic flair. That’s how I felt.

So now I’ve been stuck in the barn, eating hay and staring longingly at the pasture. They only let me out for a few hours here and there, and while I appreciate the effort, it’s not the same. I want to eat with Finnick, enjoy some open trails, and the wind in my mane—not supervised strolls around the barnyard.

On the bright side, I got new shoes and fresh pads, and everyone seems hopeful they’ll help. My little girl says we just need to wait for the bruise to heal, and then we can hit the trails again. I’m doing my best to be patient. I may not like stall rest, but I do love hearing, “You’ve been so good, Chubs,” while getting forehead scratches.

So for now, I’m hanging in there—resting, healing, and daydreaming about the next big ride. Don’t worry about me, friends. I’ll be back on the trails soon enough. You can’t keep a good pony down.