Between the Spindles with Mister Ed

I lined myself up at the edge of the braided rug, eyeing that straight gauntlet of turned wooden chair legs marching under the dining table. Any proper rodeo hand knows a pole-bending course when he sees one. I dug my rear hooves into the wool for traction and broke into a tight, coiled canter across the slick oak floor. Weaving left around the front spindle, banking hard right past the cross-stretcher, my flanks barely grazed the dark varnish. The pivot around the anchor leg was pure cut-horse grit—a sharp spin on my hocks and a flat-out dash back through the gap. That was a clean, record-breaking run. #Mistered #talkinghorse #Kitchen #Run