Kindel Don’t Care No More
She was gone and he missed her there. Snowball was a rhine pony. Soft jelly eyes that would just as soon kiss as look at you. But then she foamed at the mouth. You didn’t want that kiss. You wanted her the hell away is what you wanted. But Snowball didn’t want the hell away. She was always right there. Just lookin’. Foamin’.
She was a beautiful horse for the most part. Her mane flowed where the burrs didn’t matte it and she neighed like a bell in the springtime. Not the bell, the horse. In the springtime. A bell resembled her neigh only in the spring. Othertimes she had the cholera. Then she seemed to have the perpetual rabies. We never rode Snowball because it was too easy for her to bite our knees and we didn’t want to get the perpetual rabies. It didn’t seem like they hurt her, but it was just all that foam. Like a never ending spit flavored milkshake. Just drippin’ and swallowin’. Maybe it was a dental issue. Or some glands. Some engine too excited. The grass just a coated in dish soap.
We did consider putting her down. The foam. She was always within biting distance though you didn’t want her to be, though you didn’t ride her cuz she’d a bit your knees, but she was always there and could bite anything. The house. The pond. Not biting the house, the pond–these are just examples of places where she could bite you anywhere, like your ears or feet. Wherever we went, Snowball went. She may have been the plague, but she was our plague. We may have been in biting distance, but it was our biting distance. She also had them jelly eyes. Eyes like a puppy’s dog eyes that were made out of jelly. When you stared at them it was weird, so you just had to move your head and glance at them.
In the end we shot her because she was starting to smell. Kindel lowered his gun, his head.