Saturday, May 14, 2011


Good Mornin'

Ya know, in my fantastically, naïve efforts, keep on, keepin' on, I wrote a kids book about my life out here, New Mexico Outback, with my wild and rescue horses. When I got done, I had a sense that I had understood somethin' and that there was more I wanted to say. I tried and tried to figure where to put it, but clearly it didn't fit and I kinda come to the conclusion, I might just have to boil it down, put it on the back cover and figure on another book at some point. So, here it is:

This is the gift of a life; to know and remember, trust what's good. Not some big idea, but the flavor. This is the gift of a heart; a place where we know and savor the flavor.

Don't know why, but I remember this time, a couple a years ago, when my youngest rescue, a filly named Graceful, tore her foot open. It was bad. Try as I might, I still find pockets of old tangled barb wire, here and there, that I still need to clean up and, seems, Graceful had found one 'fore I did. And, she had tore open the canopy of her foot, back to front.

I had called a friend of mine, a very sympathetic vet from up in Colorado, askin' for advice. He wasn't optimistic and the discussion turned to questions of puttin' her down; me not havin' the budget for long hauls to a vet and extended in patient care. Anyway, this was a troublin' turn of events, with few options I liked.
I thought and thought. Finally, only thing I could figure was to ask the horse.

I went out and found the bunch she run with and went to visit, figurin' she was plenty smart enough to understand the question. She always had a particular way about her, peaceful serene and wise. Anyway, she just looked at me, more concerned about my concern than her foot; kinda like, "what's your problem, I cut my foot, so?". Well, it seemed to me she had absolutely no intention of lettin' a little thing like that, slow her down, one bit, let alone stop her.

So, once a day, no money for medication or antibiotics, and knowin' a bandage would last about five minutes, I hauled a bucket a water out to the pasture and flooded the cavern exposed by the tear. About a week later, I got a package of antibiotics in the mail with a note: "No bill. Good Luck." Then another friend of mine out of the blue, give me a box of old medications, he said he didn't need anymore; among the items, a good strong antibacterial cream, water soluble, that'd melt right down into such a wound.

Well, a picture's worth a thousand words as they say, and Graceful never skipped a beat.



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