Kicking Things Off
So last week I was staring at my horse Bucky chewing hay like it’s his full-time job, and I thought – damn, this guy deserves a proper Christmas present. Got me wondering what the heck do you even buy for a 1,200-pound furball?
The Hunt Begins
First I hit up all my horse buddies. Asked Dave at the feed store, called Jenny who runs trail rides, even bothered my vet during colic season. Everybody had wild suggestions – everything from fancy brushes to light-up saddle pads. Felt overwhelming honestly.
Then I tried hitting pet stores in town. Big mistake. All dog toys and cat trees. Lady at PetCo actually tried selling me a dog bone saying “horses chew too right?” Nearly walked out right then.
Testing Stuff Out
Finally grabbed some potential winners from the tack shop. Got Bucky:
- This salt lick shaped like a candy cane – smells like peppermint
- Heavy duty curry comb with fancy rubber bristles
- Fleece-lined leg wraps for winter paddock time
- Treat ball you stuff with carrots that rolls around
Tossed everything in his stall before breakfast. Watched him from the barn door like a creep.
The Moment of Truth
Bucky went straight for that salt lick. Went at it like a kid tearing wrapping paper. Leg wraps? Sniffed ‘em then stepped right over. Treat ball got nudged once and forgotten.
But man when he found that curry comb? Rubbed himself against the stall wall purring like a chainsaw. Next day he was still carrying it around dropping it at my feet like “scratch me human.” Winner winner.
What Actually Worked
Turns out Bucky’s got expensive taste in scratching tools. Here’s what stuck:
- That rubber curry comb’s now his security blanket
- Peppermint salt lick lasted three days flat
- Fleece wraps ended up great after frosty mornings
Treat ball? Still sitting muddy in the corner. Guess horses ain’t dogs after all.
Final Thoughts
Honestly thought Bucky’d go nuts for food stuff. Lesson learned – horses want spa days, not toys. Spent eighty bucks finding that out. Worth every penny watching that goofball scratch his butt against pine shavings. Next year? Getting him a backscratcher on a stick.
