Neglect

It's been awfully cold and rainy around here, a weather trait not very conducive to harvesting wheat. With a high in the sixties on both Saturday and Sunday and the calendar still telling us that it was August, Danish Cowboy and I began to experience a mild case of cabin fever. So we hopped on two four-wheelers, Tucker Dog included, and rode off into the sunset. Actually we just rode about a quarter of a mile out in to the summer horse pasture for an evening visit with the three amigos.

Three poor, neglected, starving amigos that rarely feel the touch of a human hand anymore let alone the weight of an adult on their back. Ginger the paint (almost named Giselle by my niece), Joe the quarter horse, and my beloved Argo.

The most neglected of them all? My oversized and pot-bellied Tenny Walker. I think it's sympathy weight for me. I gained. He gained. We'll both lose it when there is time to get back in the saddle.

And our hope is that we can get back in the saddle soon and share the joy of horses with our children. My little girl will need a bit of work. She talks about horses all of the time and loves to look at my horse-themed coffee table books, but when it comes right down to it, she only wants to be around them from a safe vantage point -- with a death grip on my hips or cozily wrapped around dad's shoulders.
I think she likes the idea of horses, but the reality of them is a different story. They are big and quick and she can't grab on to them and toss them off of the deck like she can with the cats (sorry cat lovers, but it is kind of funny to see this). It is very similar to me wanting to tear down a wall in the kitchen and make an island out of the space. I like the idea of this home improvement, but actually tearing into it is a whole different ball game. It will happen eventually though and my little girl will also come to trust horses in her own time. I know this to be true.

The little guy on the other hand has no fear of these creatures. 1200 pounds of horseflesh and he is ready to gallop away if we would let him. And then the next day he screams a fearful sound and refuses to pick up a worm out of the garden. If I could only read his mind.

Introducing our passions to our children is the best part of being a parent. We share with them our love of something and hope that it sticks -- or at the very least they learn to find a passion of their own. Horses, sports, life -- I want them them to reach for the stars and make the most out of what they love to do.

And between my Argo and Danish Cowboy's still-quick and still-beautiful 25 year old quarter horse named Joe, we'll give these little people lots of memories to hang on to throughout their lives all while instilling in them that it is okay to love another creature wholeheartedly and with total abandon.