Soring

You know what soring is?

Yes? No? Hard to tell through that bit. It really does make you drool, huh?

Soring. Not like an angel. S O R I N G. Sounds like it hurts, doesn’t it? You might be right. But pain is just another thing on TV until it happens to you.

As a horse girl, I thought you might care a little more about, I dunno. This thing we love. But you were always the stuck up equestrian. Me, the acne disaster in glasses, guess I had more time for reading. Watching. Planning.

Just consider this another one of our study sessions. You know, I was so happy when you asked me to tutor you. You weren’t using me, right? We’re friends, right? More than friends. Horse girls. Horse friends. And horse friends horsehelp each other.

So listen up.

Soring.

Soring is one of many cruel things people do to horses.

It’s not even like what they do to pigs and sheep. At least there’s some kind of twisted utility in that. You know, like that one teacher used to say. Utility. Very clean word. Can I use the utilities? Definitely not a word that suggests uh screams and choking on aerosolized feces. Guess that’s the point. It’s like these hooves strapped to your feet, smoothing those ugly, wiggling toes into a pretty black shape, nice and pure and simple.

People like you.

But I don’t think a word like person. Human. Or anything like that. Is what you deserve to be called.

No, there’s no utility. There’s infinite ways to find entertainment and community in this world, and some people choose to be the crowds watching these shows, or the clerks, accountants, vendors, vets, trainers, riders—thousands of people decided their idea of fun is watching a horse get tortured for the utility of uh, raising its hooves really high.

I look at those crowds of men, women, and children. A whole ecosystem with big smiles on their face at the sight of a horse being tortured. And I think: you’re not even human! You’re demons!

It’s perverse.

Yes, that’s the machine. Better start running. Around and around in a circle.

You feel it now, on your heels. The sharp spike punishing any attempt to rest. But the balls of your feet hurt too. Your hooves are packed full of nails. That’s why you lift them real nice and high, just for a second of relief—oh no, the other hoof is hurting! Better lift that! Down goes the first hoof—and there you go again. A perpetual motion machine. Clopping around this circle in mindless pain.

Look at the blood welling through your hooves, oozing from the crushed footmeat, the sharp impact of each clop. Around and around. Your foot blood is making a pattern on the ground. Starting to smear. How beautiful.

Your hooves crash down and speckle my glasses with red droplets. Why can’t I stop smiling? Now you understand what horses feel. And I understand what you feel! You love watching a big, beautiful beast prancing for your amusement, right? Shaking off droplets of sweat and blood with huge quivering pupils, right?

Look at you. Literally frothing at the bit. Foam dribbling onto those garish breasts, not that I’m looking. Does it hurt for them to bounce unsupported like that? I wouldn’t know. You called me flat. I guess I am. But even my underdeveloped things ache when I run down the basement steps to our private little stable. So nature’s gifts probably feel like they’re wrenching off your chest.

You’re sweating so hard I can’t tell if you’re crying.

Oh yeah. It burns back there, doesn’t it?

Gingering. That’s the other thing. They put some raw ginger or caustic chemical up the horse’s rectum. I tried a little ginger and it was honestly wasn’t that bad. Definitely not educational. Maybe they had some crazy medieval dino-ginger back then, but whatever the case, those sad little roots from the supermarket weren’t cutting it. So I mixed household chemicals with glue until it started to sizzle.

It’s supposed to make you go faster. It better. If you slow down, the nails will sink in. The only way to last is to keep up the momentum. Like skipping a stone. Or the strap around your neck will get tighter. And you’ll have less air to spend.

I’d like to think I can educate you on the issues. That we could have a big laugh as I bandage your hooves by the fire. One horse girl to another. But I need to know you really understand how cruel and inhumane we treat some of the most beautiful living creatures on this planet.

So jerk those pretty knees high and alternate your hooves. If the nails dig too hard into the balls of your feet, or the spikes at your heels stab too deep—you could get serious nerve damage. Twist your ankle. Even break a leg. And then it’s the glue factory for you.

Don’t worry. It’s just what they do to horses.