Yesterday started, not with a bang, but a thump. That was me hitting the ground. Inga has been getting better and better about leaving the barn on a lead rope, and yesterday was the best yet. She didn't fight me at all in her stall and I was mentally saying, "Good girl, way to go." We were calmly walking in the aisle leaving the barn when she bolted. It wasn't until we were through the gate, me hanging on to the rope, that I did a face plant in the ankle-high, very wet grass outside. Inga dragged me around on the ground and I will admit to yelling expletives. "Good girl" was not in there. Letting a goat get the best of me (get my goat, as it were) wasn't going to happen, so I hung on, feeling very much like a rodeo calf roper while I struggled to get to my feet. Once I was up, Inga pretended that nothing had happened and went directly into the milking room and up on the stand. "Rhinestone Cowboy" played in my head while I sat in sopping britches to milk her out. Her, and all the others. My bibbies were still soaked when I got back to the house. By then I could laugh about it and almost wish there'd been a camera around.
With impeccable timing, Linda arrived just as the race came to a very exciting conclusion and we had a nice visit, and I got the girls back in the barn just before the rain started.
It was quite a day for the Queen of the Rodeo.