Me and the Great Big Horsey

I’d like you to close your eyes and picture this.

A horse trailer. Not tremendously long, but large enough to hold two horses in the back, side by side, and saddles and other equipment in the front. Picture standing behind it, gazing into the open trailer. No horses at the moment, but room for a horse on both the left and the right sides. Focus on the left side and see the large pile of hay at the front with a large hanging leather hay bag reaching from one side of that stall to the other, hanging about waist high and a large padded bar directly in front of it to keep the horsey from moseying on out the side door. See the open side door directly to the left of the bag of hay. Picture straw scattered throughout the trailer. Now picture the massive pile of horse dookey at the very top of the ramp as you enter the trailer from the back.

Got it? Good.

OK. Now picture me, standing out in the sun on a 100 degree day, sweating my you-know-what’s off, in a tank top, shorts and flip-flops (that flip-flop thing is gonna be key here in a minute or two), holding onto my buddy, a wonderful but very feisty 16 hand jumper named Chris, who belongs to my friend and neighbor and who would rather have me give him cheek noogies, nibble on my belly pack, my cell phone, my hipbone, my shoulder and put his head against my chest so I can scritch his ears, than stand quietly while the nice sweaty lady behind him curses under her breath while she braids his tail and his mane. Why am I standing there slowly melting and playing babysitter for Chris? Because my friend is at one of the rings with the Ringlet watching her daughter, Ringlet’s friend’s, jumping round. For nearly half an hour.

OK. Switch back to the horse trailer and see me, with the halter lead in my hand, mincing my way up the ramp of the trailer in my flip-flops, dodging the dookey, and asking Chris very politely to get his big furry can back up in the trailer please. See Chris saying no. See Chris giving me the “Listen, I’ve been in that stupid trailer all day and if you think you’re getting me back up in there now that I’ve been set free, you’re out of your puney human mind” stare. See me getting jerked back out of the trailer with barely time to leap over the dookey before I fly back down the ramp. See me settle myself and set my shoulders. See me lecture a horse. See the other lady get behind Chris and push while I coax him back up the ramp. See Chris dodge the ramp and try to run around the SIDE of the trailer while still hooked to the lead line clutched in my hands and see me once again leap the load.

OK. Picture this happening about four times. Now. See us line that horse back up with the trailer, me count to three and yell GO and the lady give a tremendous push and me coax and pull for all I’m worth and see the surprised look on my face when the horse comes up the ramp and into the trailer. Fast.

See me with absolutely nowhere to go as this horse finally does what I ask him to do and is heading straight for me and my nearly naked feet. I did the only thing I could do. I got a nice, tight death grip on his lead, dropped under the bag, rolled back into the hay, rolled to the inside, checked where his hooves were and rolled back the other way, rolled right out the open side door and came up on my feet with the lead line still in my hand.

Ten feet away were three women in chairs in front of their trailer watching the whole thing with gaping mouths and wide eyes. I did the only thing I could think to do.

I took a bow.

They applauded and said “Man, my body won’t MOVE like that.”

I said, “Neither will mine until you give it a da#$ned good reason to.”

Mission accomplished.