The Furious Spinner

It's cold tonight. Mario and I saw the crescent moon, like the smile on a Cheshire cat, just before it slipped below the horizon. The horses are wearing blankets to keep warm. This fascinates Mario. He wonders if they really keep the horses toasty, and I tell him, "Sure, as long as they don't wander too far from the outlets and accidentally unplug the blankets." He looks at me quizzically for a moment. I can't keep a straight face. Sometimes it's just fun to tease the former city boy.

I have bonded with one of the horses. Have I told you that? You'll never guess which one. When I arrived here, three perfectly healthy horses lived in the corrals several yards away. Now one is sick. Yes, you've guessed it. We'll call her Colette. (I didn't ask her permission, so I can't use her real name.) I used to know horse breeds when I was a horse crazy girl, but I don't any more. Colette is probably a quarter horse, or some mix of a quarter horse and something else. She's a dark chestnut color with a bit of white on her forehead and several small patches of white across her withers.

I noticed a couple of days ago that she was a little lethargic. The horse she shares corral space with, a gelding, was being bossier than usual. Whenever we went over to give them carrots, the bully never let Colette eat. Ears flat against his head, teeth bared, he'd go after her if she tried to get her share. So Mario and I decided not to go over with treats any more.

The vet came over that day she was looking lethargic and did some nasty things to Colette, sticking hoses here and there and everywhere. Apparently the owners had been out riding and Colette tried to jump a small creek instead of walking across it and she got caught in quicksand. (When Mario heard this, he said, "Quicksand? So you're telling me there's killer bees, problem lions, AND quicksand!") Colette hit her underside when she went into the quicksand, so they were worried she may have messed up her stomach. Horses can have problems with their tummies. For one thing, they can't throw up.

First thing I did this morning was look out the window to see how she was doing. A minute later, she went down. I waited. She wasn't on her side. Her legs were under her, her head up, her ears forward. After I got dressed, I went out and told the owner I'd be home most of the day so I'd keep on eye on her. She thanked me, and we talked about how many times Colette had pooped last night. (Three times.) She hadn't eaten for 36 hours straight, but she was eating now.

The caretaker's dog came running up behind me while I was talking. I turned around, and he crouched down: ready to spring up and play. I put my hand out and said, "I don't want any dog boogers." I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous this dog looked preparing to play or pounce on me, whichever activity I gave him permission to do. He ran away again when he realized I was having none of it. At least he isn’t barking at me any more.

After the owner left and Mario went to the Quail House, I went outside to the fence. Colette's head went up as soon as she saw me, and she came over to the fence. As long as the bully saw I didn't have any treats, he stayed away. Colette lifted her head over the fence and let me put my hand on her forehead. I tried to do some Reiki on her. I've done Reiki on animals before (dogs, actually), and they seemed to respond to it by becoming almost completely still. Colette did the same thing. She didn't seem to care whether I had a treat or not. She appeared to want the company. She stayed with me for a while and then the bully came over, so I left before there was an altercation. Colette didn't need that.

I came out off and on all day, in-between reading and making corrections on my book coming out from Aqueduct Press, Counting on Wildflowers: an Entanglement. Colette kept putting her head and neck through the fence, reaching toward the little bits of grass outside the corral. It seemed she wanted some fresh food. I smuggled her some carrots and a few bits of clover I could find. I didn't want to give her any other "greens" since I don't know my desert plants well enough to cause her no harm. She nearly always came to the fence when I came out, something she had not done before she was sick. I went over and tried to give her a little healing and a little loving each time. Sometimes when I watched her through the window of the casita, she looked so lethargic I was afraid she was worsening, but then the other two horses looked lethargic, too. How much fun could it be to spend all day in this corral with no grass to eat, no pleasant company, not even a book to read...or eat?

When I was a girl, I had an imaginary world where the girls (and women) had enormous political, social, and magical power. I had my own planet in this world, where I lived with many, many horses, and my best friend, Palo. Everywhere we went, we went with our horses. Our home planet was called 2,000, which was code for Horse. I was absolutely undeniably horse crazy when I was a girl. I'm sure I've mentioned here before that I slept with the book Black Beauty under my pillow in the hopes I would dream of horses. I read The Black Stallion books by Walter Farley over and over again, although I wished Alex could have been a girl instead of a boy.

Despite all of this, I was afraid of horses; this was not something I ever told anyone. My aunt had been thrown from her horse as a girl, and she was permanently paralyzed on one side of her face. Plus, horses were big animals. I was a little girl. That did not dim my passion, however. I went to places where I could be with horses as often as I could.

Puberty came, however, and my horse fetish went out the window. And as I've gotten older, I've grown more and more uncomfortable with domesticated animals (and the implications of animal slavery therein). Although I have sometimes wanted to start riding again, I haven't been able to convince myself the horses like being ridden, so I haven't done it. (I know, I know. All of my best friends have domesticated animals. It's my thing, doesn't mean I'm sitting in judgment of those who have animals as pets, etc.)

Anyway, nothing profound to this missive. I just find it rather amusing that I come to the desert for some wild healing, and I stumble upon a sick horse, and for some reason, we like each other. It ain't world peace or nothing. But it was a shared peace, between two creatures, for a few hours today. I hope Colette feel better in the morning

And I hope she kicks the bully's butt.


1 comments

1 Comments:

Super work performed.

By  Harris Overfelt, at 10:09 AM  

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