Once upon a time there was a horse ...

When I picked up Charlie from school last night, I went by a field where there were two horses, and something had apparently just scared them, because they were running around with their ears pinned back and sort of bucking, hopping and running all at the same time.

It was like they served as a door to all the memories I have of having horses. The one closest to me also looked like my horse. And I wondered, could it still be alive? I can't for the life of me even remember how old he was when we got him. Not that old, I don't think, and they can live upwards of 30 years. But it's been longer than 30 years since I've had him. So he's probably no longer driving someone insane.

Because seriously, that is all he ever did to me!

But that's not true, of course. All stories have different facets, and while Tuppy (he was a registered appaloosa and his full name was Medicine Boy's Tuppence) was certainly one of the most challenging horses in the universe, he provided me with a great number of wonderful times (to say the least) but as I watch my son, who is the age I was when it was all about horses for me, it was certainly a much better way to while away the hours than say FACEBOOK is, spending hours exchanging innate sentences with a girl.

To have a horse means you have to work. If you are going to show that horse, then you have to ride them constantly to get ready. Winters were sort of lackadaisical because I rode in an indoor ring to keep in shape, but dear Tuppy just hung around in his barnyard pooping. Yes, that is pretty much all he did. I would shovel out paths for him to walk around said barnyard, and he would poop in them. Then I would go shovel that poop up and throw it over the fence. And I would clean out his stall, often using a pick to chop at the frozen pee in the corner. Oh yes, good times.

He would also become quite hornery if left in his stall for too long. But that was all year long -- not just winter! As I became older and found more exciting things to do than stay home and take care of my horse (or as puberty hit me full bore and I had to struggle to wake up in the morning) I would wake to him knocking about in his stall. I had a bedroom behind the garage of our house, which was right next to the barn. I could hear him snorting and snuffling and when he'd start kicking the walls, I knew I had to get out there.

It was scary. He was not in a good mood at these times, so the first thing I would do would be to open up the top door of the stall. The barn itself was built as two stalls that opened up onto the barn yard. There was a space inside between the stalls where the grain and hay were kept (and the saddle, shavings, etc.) but you had to reach it via one of the stall doors, which meant, if there were two horses in residence, you had to deal with a horse to get inside.

Okay, so I would open up the top door and then run away as his head would come flying out. He had a mad glint in his eye at these times, and if memory serves me correctly, he bared his teeth and growled. Yeah, he was the DEVIL HORSE.

He always did this thing where he would spin around in his stall after he'd thrust his head out, and as soon as his butt was facing me, I would open up the door and smash it against the wall of the barn, pinning myself behind it. I am pretty sure I screamed too, because it was gawdawful scary wondering if this would be the day your horse would eat you.

He would spin around and charge out like the barn was on fire, and I would fly into the stall, slamming the door behind me. It was all of about 10 seconds before his head would be hanging back in the stall, smoke breathing from his flared nostrils, and I would cower for a moment in the safe space in the middle of the barn, shaking from the exertion of trying to stay alive.

I would throw out a sliver of hay and he would go for that, while I poured the grain in his bowl. Then I would open the stall door and run back to my safety spot inside, panting. He would nose open the door and stride in, master of the barn, and go to the grain and start inhaling it. While he was doing that, I would go fill the buckets outside with water, and as soon as he came out for a drink, I'd fill the one inside. Depend

ing on his manner, I might or might not give him a pat. Moody beast of a gelding he was.

Then I would go back to bed. Of course, Tuppy wasn't happy -- because the barnyard corral was just dirt. In the months where it made sense, I would put him into another pasture so he could graze. But that meant more water, blah blah blah, so I would wait until later (you know, while I caught up on my sleep!) Sometimes my mother would do it, but not always. I felt quite the slave to that beast in the backyard, I truly did.

But ... we had some good times. He was my boyfriend, after all! Because believe me, he was quite demanding of my time and attention. One of my favorite memories is when I would go out and clean the stall in that time of night where it is still warm after a nice day of sunshine, but it is cooling down and the crickets are starting to chirp.

I would put on the radio and sing as loud as I could as I shoveled manure into a wheelbarrow, then after that chore was done and the stall was fresh and sweet smelling with a new bed of shavings, I would invite Tuppy to jo

in me, and I would climb up on to his bareback and just hang, singing along with the radio and pretending we were dancing at times. And if he wasn't in the mood, the rake was a perfect dance partner too! You haven't lived until you've slow danced in a stall with a rake.

Now horse shows are a whole 'nother story, and since I just spent the better part of an hour searching for these photos, I will have to save that for another time.

But here I am with a horse named, interestingly enough, Charlie. This horse was the most docile beast on the planet, unless another horse decided to get in front of him. Then watch out! He could take off like a bullet and run ... well, like I said, another time! I could tell horse stories all day.

But like I did to poor Tuppy, I am going to leave you pawing at the stable door ... just waiting.

And waiting!