Derina Pyles
Horse Sense
“Talley-ho, old chap!” Traveler yelled as he burst from the corner of his paddock. Startled, I jumped sideways, gripping the water hose tightly in my hand.
“First of all, your British accent stinks, and second, I’m not old or a chap. If you’re trying to annoy me, you’re doing a good job.” I kept dragging the hose to the next trough, knowing good and well our conversation was just getting started. “And furthermore, if you think I’m going to take up jousting with you, you’ve lost your mind.”
“How did you know I wanted to be a jousting horse, Hay-Woman?”
“Ever since you watched the Olympics this summer, you have been on this kick. Every week, it’s something different– dressage, showjumping, eventing. I just figured jousting was next. Am I right?” I said, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Maybe,” he said, pawing the ground, trying not to admit I was right.
“What’s wrong with being Traveler, the rock-solid trail horse?”
“That’s soooo boring,” he said, hanging his big, gray head. “I want the glitz, the glamor, the excitement. Those horses on the Olympic team were so elegant and athletic. I bet they are super smart, too. I don’t want to be an old boring trail horse, Hay-Woman.” His tone was melancholy.
“Old, boring trail horse, huh? Let me tell you a thing or two,” I said, my serious voice making him point his ears forward. I had his attention now. “‘Boring’ is not an adjective I would use to describe you at all. What about all the obstacle course challenges we have done together? You have scaled steep steps, swaying bridges, high teeter totters, deep water, fire rings, flapping plastic curtains. I could go on and on…”
“Do go on,” he interrupted with a half-grin. I could see in his eyes he was thinking of all the fun we had had traversing dangerous obstacles.
“My point is,” I continued, “you forget you have mastered all those things. Things that would scare those big Olympic horses to death. They would literally bolt, bucking and farting, all the way back home.”
Traveler looked me in the eye, and we both busted out laughing at the thought of that. I composed myself to finish my lecture. “You make that stuff look like a walk in the park. And what about all the scary things we have encountered on our trail rides? The bears, the turkeys flying up out of nowhere, the narrow trails near a cliff’s edge, the creeks full of slippery rocks? You always take your time, and are extremely careful with your feet, to get us safely home. How can all those accomplishments label you as boring?”
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess I’m not an old, boring trail horse.”
He perked his head up, lifted his front knees in a grand motion, and began strutting around his paddock.
“Now, I didn’t say anything about the old part,” I mumbled. Traveler put his feet down snickering at himself and my comment.
“Thanks, Hay-Woman. I am grateful to have you as my friend. God knew we needed each other from the very start.”
“Don’t start getting mushy on me, Traveler.”
Wiping a tear at his thoughtfulness, I grabbed the water hose and turned back to the trough. He certainly did.
