11/06/2025
I don't think I have every loved or related to a hoof related post so much. Hilarious
THE UNHOLY TRINITY OF HOOF CARE
(The Client, The Weather, and The Facebook Comment Section)
And lo, having created the Holy Trinity, the gods of hoof care looked down upon their work and said,
“Too much peace. Too much competence. Let’s fix that.”
And from the mud, three new entities crawled forth — uninvited, unkillable, and determined to test the faith of every professional in the land.
They are the Unholy Trinity: The Client, The Weather, and The Facebook Comment Section.
Beware them all, for they walk among us.
THE CLIENT: TESTER OF SANITY, DESTROYER OF SCHEDULES
The Client was created first — a necessary evil wrapped in fleece and optimism.
They arrive smiling, clutching a coffee and a crisis.
They open with: “He’s been a bit footy,” and close with, “He’s never done that before.”
They have read every article, ignored every one of them, and can pronounce “laminitis” with the confidence of a man explaining space travel to NASA.
Their horse hasn’t seen a hard surface since 2019.
Their field is a swamp. Their rug collection has its own postcode.
They believe hoof boots are magical artefacts that cure every known disease, provided you fasten them under the full moon.
And yet — we love them.
For without them, there would be no stories, no invoices, and no one to text at 10 p.m. about “those lines on his hoof.”
They are our burden and our business.
Forgive them, for they know not what magnesium is.
THE WEATHER: THE ETERNAL ADVERSARY
The second of the Unholy Three.
It obeys no law, no season, no god but chaos.
Forecasts are fairy tales — “light showers” means biblical floods, “mild breeze” means sideways sleet and a flying bucket.
You set out in sunshine; by yard two, you’re waterboarding yourself with your own hood.
Your gloves weigh a kilo, your rasp has oxidised before your eyes, and the horse is standing in a puddle that’s technically tidal.
Then comes summer — flies, concrete hooves, and clients who say, “Could we do 2 p.m.? He’s in the shade then.”
There is no shade. There is only regret.
We do not battle the weather; we negotiate terms of surrender.
It wins every time.
THE FACEBOOK COMMENT SECTION: ABANDON ALL REASON
The final trial. The abyss. The ninth circle of hoof care hell.
Here, experts are born fully formed from the ether, armed with screenshots, Google citations, and zero experience.
They speak in absolutes, quote memes as gospel, and preface every insult with “just my opinion.”
No photograph is safe; no nuance survives.
You post a sound horse, and someone declares it crippled.
You post a pathology, and they recommend turmeric and grounding mats.
There are factions, cults, and people who sincerely believe that a hoof can “breathe.”
It is a spiritual wasteland littered with broken professionals and screenshots of old Pollitt papers no one has actually read.
You cannot win. You cannot reason. You can only scroll faster.
THE CREED OF THE UNHOLY
We, the weary, accept these trials as proof of life.
For every client who ghosts us, there’s one who brings cake.
For every storm, there’s a horse who stands like a saint.
And for every idiotic thread online, there’s one quiet message that says, “thank you — that helped.”
So we endure.
We patch the boots, wring out the socks, close the browser, and live to rasp another day.
And lo, the gods of hoof care looked again upon their creation and said,
“They’re still standing. Perhaps we should add farrier conferences next.”
