Thursday, November 20, 2014

Horses, Not for Me



Horses, Not for Me

When I was in kindergarten and the first grade, I had a tall friend who loved horses. I mention tall because I was (and still am) very short. During recess every day, we played horses. She was the “mama horse” and I was her “baby horse.” I don’t think she ever got to have one because she lived in town.

I, however, ended up with one, or I should say, my sister had a horse. Her name was Tilly, and my experiences with her were always bad. Troubles culminated the day she stopped dead in her tracks and threw me over her head.

Luckily, I wasn’t hurt, but that was the end of any future relationship with Tilly. I was always secretly a little afraid of her. (I was short; she was tall.) She managed to founder twice and survived both incidents. Maybe that’s why she became so cantankerous. My sister and brother could handle Tilly, but I chose not to climb right back in the saddle.

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