Wrigley has a pasture but likes to lay in her own poop.
She scratches against the pine tree and has giant blobs of pitch in her coat. (Except where I've brushed it out, which is somewhat bald.)
Our trailer, while completely functional, is almost as old as I am and has almost as many dents and rust spots as I do.
Her bridle is actually several pieces cobbed together, a frankenbridle.
The two saddles I'm using on her are the best-fitting of four saddles I have, but both are ancient and borrowed.
I'm afraid people will look down on us as the white trash of the bunch. Why does it matter? I guess because I'm constantly afraid that Wrigley's greatest obstacle to reaching her potential is me.
What people would fail to see, if they can't look beyond the shit-stained coat, is a pair of generous and kind eyes, the softest muzzle, an inquisitive mind, and an enormous heart.
Wrigley is awesome.
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