Señor Caballo: An encounter

After a long day, I head back to my apartment only to find that I have a visitor awaiting me:  A large gray horse standing directly in front of my door. I’m a bit taken aback, but I still manage to be courteous:

Tina: “Umm, good evening Mister Horse. Sorry to bother you, but you´re in my way.  Do you think you could let me pass?"  

Horse: Blank stare.

Tina: “Of course you don’t understand, silly me, you speak Spanish.  Let's try this again. Buenas noches Señor Caballo,  bienvenidos a mi casa ¿Cómo le va? Yo soy Tina y vivo aquí.  ¿Me permite pasar?"

Horse:  Blank stare.

“Okay then, I´m just going to sqquueezzze right by you--please don´t kick me, please don't kick me, please don't kick me!  Whew, I made it safe.  Thanks. Umm… I see you´ve already made yourself at home, I guess that's alright, but please don´t poop in my yard. Deal? We cool? Alright, good night."

Oh how I wish that was the end of our encounter!  At 3:30 A.M. , I awaken to the sound of naying. Señor Caballo is still grazing in my front yard, but instead of eating by the front door he’s moved to the window in front of my bedroom.  I’m annoyed and cranky.

“Geez louise, you think you can keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep!”

I try to go back to bed. 10 minutes later I hear a stream of water outside my window.

“Seriously? You’re peeing in my front yard? Unbelievable.”

 As if to answer my question, I then hear a squeaky little burst of air. Some people get serenaded with sweet, melodious, love songs outside their windows, I get serenaded by horse flatulence.

Now I’m pissed. “Don’t you have any manners?! Go bother someone else. Take a nap or something,” I call out from my window.

Apparently Señor Caballo suffers from overactive bladder syndrome because less than ten minutes after peeing on my lawn, I hear another jet stream hit the grass. This is too ridiculous, I think to myself.  Nobody is going to believe this. Since I’m already awake, I get up and go outside in my pajamas to confront my unwanted house guest and of course, to take a picture for proof. 

I give him a stern talking to, I even shake my finger at him for extra emphasis. “You better not poop in my lawn!”  He just stares at me and poses for his picture.

I don’t get much sleep after that. A few hours later as I’m leaving for work, I'm shocked yet again.  Señor Caballo is nowhere to be found but he’s left his mark. The yard is completely trampled and ruined. Señor Caballo didn’t listen to my threats, he pooped on my lawn. Twice.  

I must be crazy for talking to a horse and thinking he might actually listen. I need a horse whisperer. Mark my words, the next time I see him, it’s not gonna be pretty.