Grandpa's seven-year-old horse, Peanut--the one who threw me twice last year--broke his leg yesterday, and had to be put down. Grandpa petted Peanut's nose with his left hand and shot him with his right, and let him lay.
The coyotes and birds will have a meal.
Peanut had a lot of starch in him (no pun intended), or maybe I should say erratic electricity. But he was my favorite of Grandpa's and my dad's horses. He was the friendliest to me.
Why do horses have to be breakin' legs all the time? The only horse I ever owned, Beebee, got a sliver in his right knee in 1980, and so he died, too. Dogs can lose a leg or two and still hobble about, but horses, unless you can afford surgery, get a one-way ticket to the Afterlife, which seems unfair. The other horses will miss him, and I know the Sand family already does.
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