- Oh, great. Another ambush at the pass. This never gets old. Sure, I’ll just stand here while you use me for cover. Thanks for not putting earmuffs on me, again, by the way. Think this shootout’s loud? Try having horse ears.
- If you think I’m going down this steep incline for another take, you’re out of your goddamned mind.
- Hey boss, why do we have to always film in the canyon with cactus? There’s a perfectly good canyon a mile from here with, you guessed it, NO cactus.
- Again with the “I stopped to water the horses” line. If I could make a pshh sound, I would. The only watering that gets done around here is at day’s end when crewman Leon dribbles the hose on my back. So much for spa treatment after a stellar performance.
- Why do you keep falling off of me? Do these scriptwriters know that any real cautious cowboy entering outlaw territory wouldn’t be riding in saddle? You should really be paying these stunt doubles top dollar. You don’t want to be hearing the pops I hear when their bones meet the hard earth. This is traumatizing for the equine.
- Ya’ll really don’t have to whip me during a cavalry charge. All my colleagues are stomping in the same direction, full gallop; I can take a hint. Not to mention the hint from that obnoxious trumpeter, who coincidently just so happens to be riding next to me EVERY SINGLE TIME. So please, for Pete’s sake – and Pete’s a good horse – tell ‘ol Robert Fuller to put his whacker away, would’ya?
- You really think these backlots are doing it? Come on, I know you guys can find better film locations. You aren’t foolin’ anybody. These boulders are blatant plaster casts even to my equine eyes. It’s a good thing many of your productions are still in black and white.
- Why ya’ll gotta yell “cut” every time I drop a loaf? You want authenticity? Keep it rolling while I roll out the greenies. The “wild west” didn’t pause every time my brothers and sisters had to unload, so why should it for your “westerns?” And it’s not our fault we have to go so much. Ya’ll should feed us fresher hay. This Hollywood stuff don’t sit as well as Texas prairie grass.
- Please don’t ask me to join the wagon train. It’s bad enough Fred the shire and Bailey the appaloosa can’t pull their own weight. And the actors don’t know how to use those reins. Can’t you get some professionals in front of the screen? They don’t have to yank on ’em so hard each time.
- When Mr. Ford yells “action” we know what to do. It’s not as if we don’t live on the studio ranch and live the Hollywood Horse Dream every waking hour. We’re up bright and early each morning with Leon the ol’ dribble hose. And, by the way, if you think we stink after sweatin’ over wagon-pulling scenes, you’ll have Leon to thank for that. It’s not as if we can properly hose ourselves down. If we could, we would. Matter of fact, if I had my way, I’d be in the director’s chair.
- Sure, I complain a lot. But I guess it beats being a nobody in a quasi-celebrity’s private Calabasas stable. At least I get to be on the Silver Screen. Don’t know why they use that term, though. The horse that plays “Silver” as in “Hi-Yo, Silver” – real jerkwad.
