Gift Horse

Today, I received the weirdest compliment (or maybe insult) of my life. An older, worldly woman stopped by my station, asking for directions. After giving her what she wanted, she laughed, caressed my shoulder, winked and said to me, "How wonderful! You've all your teeth!" Thanks...I think. Then, with a quick turn and a flip of her bouncy, shimmering brown hair, she was sashaying towards her destination, leaving a hint of jasmine and a trail of craning necks, stares, and excited whispers in her wake. I suppose I should be grateful that my daily regimen of brushing and flossing has ensured that all my teeth are in place as well as attracting attention. I'm just not sure it's the right type of attention.

Having all your teeth is a plus if you happen to be a retired gentleman or a well bred horse. I'm not anywhere near collecting any pensions, and I don't live in a barn--though growing up, there were times when my mother said my room resembled one. I don't have any hooves or tails--of course, there was that sophomore year in high school when I sported a long tail to go with my luxurious mullet, but that's another story.


Sure, I've been compared to a horse before because of my large size and for giving people wonderful rides. Every so often I'm told to hold my horses or get off my high horse. People say "Hey" to me on a daily basis. I'm should be grateful to have been compared to a glorious animal known for it's beauty, power, and hard work pulling out big loads or working hard as a stud. I'd like to think that I've some good horse sense, but truthfully, my sense of whores is much better.