Nobody will say a word. Sometimes that is good. Sometimes I wish everyone would leave me alone. That's ok, today will be social outcast day.
The weather is suppose to be nice, and then rainy on the weekend. I don't like rain; it makes my fur sticky and prevents me from turning into a wolf.
Wouldn't that be hilarious if the whole time, not a single peep came out of the living's mouth? Only the dead are allowed to peep in this chapel.
It doesn't feel good when you pop an animal's head. I must have stepped on at least four mice this month. I hate the crunch of it's skull and the feeling of the fragment shards jabbing into the creature's brain, followed by a pop! The little warrior's stomach fluids ooze beneath my hoof.
When I was a young, I wandered into the wilderness, away from Britton and mother horse the farm, and I came across a dark cavern. I entered. Seeing that once I passed the bones there was no return, I turned around and went back home.
I found out later that they were mother horse's bones. I had never met her, or known her. I had never seen her. Heard her. Felt her, smelled her. She was a stranger to me. Life without a mother horse was a tough road to travel upon, but that's alright, I survived. I'm the greatest Chove out there. Nobody is a better Chove than Chove.
Velma isn't a better Chove.
Nobody is a better Chove. Not even Britton. He is a better Britton than he is a birthing Chove.
I am Chove and I have given birth. No. I am not a seahorse, I am just a regular horse, I have not babied.
I have no infants to care to. I am free like William.
