Tuesday, February 7, 2012


A few years ago, before I had my surgery on my leg, Mother was teaching me how to carry her around. After our initial abortive attempt,  I realized it was not such a bad idea. It made her so happy, and it really wasn't that hard of work.

 Although she is pushing her maximum density in these pictures. By the time she was less dense, I no longer was asked to carry her. Well, last year we did our little mini rides 7 or 8 times. But that doesn't really count.

So the other horses she now rides get the benefit of her minimalization, and not me. That doesn't seem fair. But since I didn't know better at the time, I just made the best of the situation.

These pictures were taking shortly before she went away for quite some time. Aunt Margie made sure I got brought in and fed and cleaned and everything during that time. As you can see, I already had her number. I knew which pocket was the cookie pocket.

Mother announced one cold spring day that she was going away for a while. She brought me in from the field, led me up to the mounting block at the back of the barn, and before I knew it, she was sitting on me.

Just her. No saddle... it felt quite strange. When I started walking it felt stranger still.

There was lots of strange things about that. She didn't have a helmet, I didn't have a bridle... I had less than 15 rides. Another human looked at her asked if she had gone crazy. She said, "Well if he kills me, I don't have to go to ****, now do I?" She just rode me to the front of the barn. It wasn't so bad.

She started riding me without a saddle a lot more, usually just down to where I would hand graze, and again on the way back up to the barn. It was strangely comforting, being ridden without a saddle. It reminded me of something, but I can't quite put a hoof on it...

Olaf C. Seltzer - Stolen Horses                                     .

Anyway, those days are long gone. Now I don't have to do any work for my cookies.

Life is good.

**** Somewhere hot and desert-y and far, far away.


  1. Bif,

    From one sturdy fellow to another, I am sure you had no trouble holding mother even pre-minimization. I venture you'd be as strong as me if it weren't for those legs of yours!


  2. Bif you were quite the handsome young man! (you're still handsome btw)

  3. Mother keeps talking about painting my legs black, how they used to be... why can't she love me just the way I am?


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