A Horse is A Horse of Course of Course

The Old Man hasn't been on a horse in a long, long, long time. Such wasn't always the case. Robbie's family owned a couple of horses. I recall one summer............

Let me set the stage for you a bit. In and around Bedford, quite a number of folks owned horses and ponys. Some were for show, some for work (for many years our garden was plowed by a horse), and some for the sheer joy of riding. My parents grew up around horses and both knew how to ride. We had friends who had horses and ponys. I would relish times when I could "spend the day" with them and indulge my Gene Autry fantasies. Loaded up with cap guns and ropes, we would ramble all over the farm, robbing stagecoaches or battling "redskins". The world was a safer place when we guarded from our 4 ft. tall Shetlands.

Once I outgrew the "pony stage", things morphed from "trot" to "gallop". Back to Robbie. His family owned a couple of horses. I don't remember their names, but it was something almost bucolic like, 'Sam' or 'Gus'. Let's go with those. One summer, Robbie and I rode every non-rainy day. We'd saddle up in the morning and ride around the town and through the surrounding fields until lunch. After lunch we'd be back at it again. In my 12 year old hubris, I was quite confident that I cut an imposing figure.....tall in the saddle.....move over Randolph Scott.

Sam was a bit spirited, so Robbie always rode him. I became the monkey on Gus's back. Gus had a somewhat temperamental digestive system. Some days it was "trot, plop, trot, plop". I'm sure people thought, "Oh hell, here comes that idiot with the four legged fertilizer factory." Gus left his share of "biscuits".

Old Gus was like an equine Basset Hound. He had a lovable face and disposition. He just sort of moped along, occasionally snorting and then plopping. Once in a while, I could get him up to a little better than a trot. He'd move up to canter with a good bit of urging, but I never remember "gallop" entering his vocabulary.

Enter 'Janie'. Janie lived near me and even at 12 was beginning to move over from the "Our Gang" stage to the "Hummmmmmmmmm" stage. So Janie garnered attention. One day, I suggested that Janie go for a ride. She readily agreed and climbed up on Gus behind me. Randolph Scott....you ain't nothin. All went well for about an hour. We trotted and plopped all over town. People took notice.....how did the idiot manage that?

While old Gus was meandering through one of the fields over behind the cemetery, Janie and I were feeling pretty competent. Then something clicked in Gus's mind. Maybe it was the realization that he had extra weight, or perhaps it was some sort of neurological short circuit, but Gus decided that he was going home. He abruptly spun around and reversed course. I flew off one way and Janie the other. Two memories stay with me clearly to this day; Gus hauling ass in a cloud of dust toward his beloved barn, and Janie sitting in the dirt, spinning like a gyroscope.

Fortunately, we were both fine with no major damage. Pretty much from that point on, however, Robbie rode alone. 'Janie' remained a good friend, and even though we were never an "item", our families shared many good times together and I remember her fondly. I think of Gus too....every time I lick an envelope.