RUNAWAY HORSE

Lalala

It’s a pleasant Sunday afternoon and I am blissfully riding my horse along the Bandy Canyon Road trail.  It winds along the valley, then up to the top of a little mountain.  A picnic table at the summit  is a great place to enjoy the magnificent view.  Normally I sit here for a little while, gazing at the valley below, and feeding carrots to my horse, then head back to the ranch.

Wow! Look at that magnificent view!

 But not today.  For some reason, I decide to dismount onto the picnic table.  Since horses are prey animals, anything out of the ordinary can frighten them.  Apparently, the sight of me standing on the picnic bench was terrifying to Scotch.  I can only imagine what was going through his horsey head.  Did I suddenly look like a monster to him because I was taller?  Guess I’ll never know.  What I do know is that he pulled back, snorting in fear.  Since I was holding onto the reins, he pulled me off the bench and dragged me through the dirt like a helpless rag doll.  Horses are strong.  I tried to hang on, but the reins slipped through my fingers and I watched in dismay as he turned and ran down the trail, his rear hooves tossing dirt into my mouth. I stood up and choked out, “Scotch? Come back!” in a feeble voice.   Uh oh.  I was in a bit of a pickle.  It was a long way back down the mountain.

Might as well enjoy the scenery

I started to walk.  I was wearing sandals.  Not the best choice.  I trudged down the trail, my sandals flip flopping against my bare feet.  I had passed some riders from my ranch earlier, and thought they would surely catch Scotch and wonder what had happened to me.  It would be embarrassing, of course, but I would explain what happened and we would all have a good laugh.  Hahahaha.  Sadly, this was not to be, as they had long since turned around.  I didn't know this yet though.  As I rounded a corner, I saw Scotch strolling leisurely along the trail.  Yeah!  Now I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed.  I called out his name and held out my hand, full of horse treats.  He turned his head to look at me, then turned back around and  kept walking!  It was no use rushing toward him; that would only make him run away.  

"Try and catch me!"

But why wasn’t he stopping?  Wasn’t he glad to see me?  Didn’t he care that I was walking all by myself in improper shoes?  What ever happened to horse-human bonding like you see in the movies??  All those old Westerns show loyal horses running eagerly to greet their owner.  They look over joyed to see them. Or they are stomping on rattlers, saving their master from certain death, or running to the nearest human and pointing a hoof in their owner’s general direction as she lies comatose in a ditch.  You know??  But MY horse was walking away from me!  Every once in a while he would turn his head to see if I was still there, then he would speed up a little.  I think I heard him laughing.  Now I was getting angry.  I picked up my pace a bit, trying to catch up with him without running.  I kept calling his name and holding out treats, to no avail.  Now the trail was winding along a busy part of the road and my anger dissolved into worry.  What if he ran in the street and got hit by a car?  What if he decided to run back to his old stable on busy Highland Valley Road?  

 A sprinkler beside the trail made a hissing sound and started spurting water, spooking Scotch.  He started to trot.  Then a motorcycle zoomed by which sent him running as fast as he could.  I was really scared now and started running too.  I passed a few people who were standing in bewilderment because they had just seen a riderless horse go by.  Then a van pulled up and a man asked if anybody knew about the runaway horse.  He pointed the direction Scotch was running (toward our new stable, thank God) and asked if I wanted a ride.  I was huffing and puffing and sweating in my black leather fringed vest and cut-off jean shorts and gladly jumped into his van.  His wife was driving and I thanked them both and explained how I came to be running along the road without my horse.  As my eyes adjusted to the interior of the car, I noticed a little girl sitting in her car seat beside me.  I said hello to her and she said, “That’s my brother in the back.”  A little boy, also strapped securely in his car seat, was sitting behind her.  They were both so cute, angelic really.  In fact I later decided this was an angel family sent to help me.  I was still panting from exertion, thinking what a mess I must look to them, searching nervously out the window for my horse. 

"Hoooome"

And there he was, standing innocently by the gate across the street from our stable.  He wasn’t hurt and none of the dire scenarios that played out in my mind had occurred.  I was so happy to see him that I said the following words:

“That  S___HEAD!” 

Alarms were sounding in my head and little red flags popped up behind my eyes, but it was too late.  The words came tumbling out of my mouth uncensored.  I immediately started apologizing profusely and dared not glance at the sweet little faces sitting beside me.  I had cursed in front of the angel children!  The mom said, “Oh, don’t worry.”,  but at that point in time I felt like a sweaty, filthy, tattooed, body pierced, leather clad motorcycle mama swigging beer, puffing on a cigarette dangling from my lower lip, spouting profanity out of the corner of my mouth. 

I truly felt hideous as I clambered out of their van, thanking them politely and trying to redeem myself.  I climbed through the fence and held my hand out to Scotch with the cookies he had refused earlier.  The angel van people waited until I had hold of him, then waved and drove away. 

I was trembling from all the emotions (and the long walk).  I could have just called it a day and gone home, but didn’t feel like I should let Scotch off so easily.  My blingy sandals were a wreck, my feet were coated with trail dust and I had been gypped out of a ride!   

So I got on him and made him go all the way back to the scene of the crime.  Then I got off, stared right into his big brown eyes, and gave him a good scolding, just like a mom ripping her kid a new one.  I asked him who he thought he was running away from me like that.  What was he thinking?  What if he had been hit by a car?  Who would feed him if it weren’t for me and other relevant, outrageous mom-isms which I’m sure impressed him.   I told him it was just me and him against the world and we had to look out for each other.  Then I started crying, because that’s what women do when they are overwhelmed by emotion, right?  He hung his head down and gazed at me with those soulful, expressive eyes as if to say, “Wow, you look really upset.  Are you OK?”

"Have you taken your meds?"

"You know you love me"

 Kids