This post was inspired by Des.
Growing up, like every little girl, I always wanted a pony of my own. I don't really need to point out why I never got one. It's the same reason 99% of little girls in America never got one. That didn't stop me from dreaming about it though. Looking back, it's probably a good thing considering one or two of my encounters with a horse. But before I tell all about it and you guys start thinking I should just stay away from all animals let me tell you a couple good things:
My Grandparents had this big beautiful magical farm with trees and hills and raspberry picking and catching fireflies and cookouts and loud crickets and everything great you could possibly imagine a kid would find amazing on a farm. I could fill a thousand pages with beautiful memories of that farm. My Uncle had some land adjoining and his cows and horses were sometimes close enough for us to see. We used to save our fruit and carrots and walk down to feed the horses in the evening. I was always a little scared so I would just hold on to my Grandma's arm when she fed them my carrots so that they would know it was "from me" even though I wasn't really feeding them. Ok, that's a good memory right?
The year I was 16 I went to live with my Grandparents on that very same form for a little while and everyday I had to walk down this rock road home from my bus stop. I would pass a field of the most beautiful brown horses I'd ever seen. I used to call out to them or sing to them, anything to get their attention but they always ignored me. Until one day I was walking by singing as usual and one beautiful mare with a white diamond on her face came up to me. She put her face as close as possible so I took it as an invitation to pet her. I stood there petting her a minute and then they all came to say hello. After that day I used to save the fruit from my lunch to feed them and they would walk next to me as far as the fence would allow. Another good one right? They liked me.
My first apartment was near a really big storybook looking church and there were a lot of weddings there. One particular day I looked out my window and there was a big majestic black Clydesdale horse with one of those Cinderella coach thingies. I went out to take a closer look and ask the driver(they're called drivers right?) if I could say hello. He said it was ok as long as I didn't make the horse excited because he was acting nervous that day. Just imagine my bragging voice," OMIGOSH OK? I have so much experience with horses don't worry." So I started to pet the horse and suddenly I feel a burn on my knee and realize I've just been stung by a bee. I started screaming, "OMIGOSH HURTS! HURTS! IT BURNS!!!" The driver got so mad at me. Luckily for me the horse didn't get upset but pretty much looked at me like I was complete idiot. (Yes horses make faces, ask anyone.)
A friend of mine, after high school graduation, moved out to the country with her boyfriend and bought a horse named Pixie. Pixie was a youngish, spoiled beautiful blonde mare and we liked her mane and tail braided with pink ribbons. My friend had this genius idea that she would teach me to ride since I had told her before how much I loved horses from afar and Pixie seemed to like me. Another genius idea she, well ok , WE had was that she would teach me English style riding and that since I was so small and light, I would learn how to jump fences and we would enter local amateur contests and just kick everyone's asses. Sounds real smart huh? We were serious. One winter day I put on some old jeans and dirty Keds and told her I was ready. Ok just for the record, even after falling off several times, I mastered the Trot and Canter and I looked cute when I tried on the outfit. Since we were feeling really cocky because I was really doing well, she decided it was ok to just let me practice on my own all the way back to Pixie's stall. Well Pixie decided not. She just up and decided to just start running like her ass was on fire and here I am clicking the Trot and Canter click, but it didn't work. She didn't want to Trot or Canter in the pretty way we showed her. She wanted to run. I had to let go of the reins and throw my arms around her neck. This seemed to make Pixie really happy because she started to run faster after that. I was begging her to slow down or stop but I'm telling you this horse was enjoying my horror. We got to really busy street and she decided to stop in the middle and kick her leg a few times and buck a little just to scare me some more. I was still holding on to her neck and asking her to stop. She decided to run like hell a little bit more. I saw a fence getting closer and closer and closed my eyes because I just knew we were going to go over whether I liked it or not. Instead of jumping over she decided to turn and run next to it instead. I said thank you for not jumping over Pixie and gave one last try to pull as close to her bit as I could to make her stop. Thankfully she did but not for long while. I slid off, and even though I was PISSED OFF at Pixie I needed to put my arms around someone and no one was there so I put my arms around her and started crying. I think she thought it was funny because she was acting really happy when we hosed her down. Bitch. I still brought her apples but we were never good friends again after that. My friend said not to hold a grudge since Pixie was so young and she probably really enjoyed my attentions because I was much lighter than the people she was used to carrying. Thanks but no thanks. Needless to say I never became a champion horse jumper, or whatever they are called. So much for our great idea.
I made friends with some horses in Canada but because of Pixie, I never got an a horse again. There's a local stable that rents out horses every summer and you can ride them on the beach. I keep thinking one year I'll do it. But then I'll change my mind. Pixie ruined any horse adventure I would ever have.
Friday, October 16, 2009
This post was inspired by Des.