As Figment motors his way towards Florida, I have been checking in on a FL discussion board for horse owners to keep my mind busy. I was getting especially worried last night, since I couldn't reach the driver by phone. Same thing this morning...I left two messages, but didn't receive a call-back. It had been more than 24 hours since Figgie climed on the trailer, so I was starting to get concerned.
On the horse discussion board, someone was joking about bad things happening on 06-06-06. For those who are not up on their Christian End Times superstition (or who haven't seen either the old or new versions of "The Omen"), 666 is Satan's number, found in the Book of Revelations. Therefore, although it's a bit of a stretch, 06-06-06 could be considered an unlucky day.
The discussion thread made me chuckle. I've always been the sort of person who would call a black cat into my path, and Friday the 13th tends to be a lucky day for me. I thought, "Uh oh, maybe I shouldn't have shipped Figgie on the dreaded 06-06-06. Maybe that's why I haven't heard from the driver," but it was a joking thought.
A short while later, the phone rang. It was the transporter's office, calling to tell me that the truck had broke down in Kentucky! Yikes! The horses were all fine, but now they will have to wait until a "rescue" rig arrives from Pensacola. Thankfully, the temperature is in the 70s, and there is plenty of food and water to keep them occupied until their journey resumes. Figment tends to be calm as long as he is around other horses, so he will be fine with his two new equine buddies that were picked up in Ohio.
Once again, I am convinced that God has a wicked sense of humor. Such irony! Oh well, at least it's better than the ice storm that I encountered with the cats, fish, and bird. I'm glad they broke down in a safe place with cool weather so they will be nice and comfy while waiting. For horses, "waiting" isn't such a bad prospect...for the most part, they stand around and eat all day, so what they're doing right now isn't too much different than their usual life. Figgie is energetic and likes to have space to run around, but I'm sure he can contain himself as long as he has a bale of hay in front of him.
I'm the one for whom the waiting is hell. I'm anxiously anticipating a phone call that will give me the newly calculated arrival time. It doesn't look like the impact will be too bad; if things go well, Figment should still arrive in Clermont some time tomorrow.
In the meantime, he's hanging out in the Bluegrass State, where perhaps some of his distant relatives are grazing nearby (he's 1/4 Thoroughbred). Or with any luck he's already hitched up to the replacement truck and working his way south once again. Meanwhile, his "mom" has learned her lesson. No more ridiculing superstition, hee hee!
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