Road To Victory

Love After All

Sighing, I took out the crinckled paper. The light was dim, but I could make out the words easily.

The Perfect Horse isn't necessarily stunningly beautiful; 
In fact, he's probably gotten a few scars and dings from life. 
He's probably been hurt but lived through it, been scared but 
overcome it, and ready to teach his rider to do the same. 
The Perfect Horse is not just arena-ridden. He 
will let you feel what it's like to gallop into the ocean waves, 
chase a neighbor's cows, or play tag on horseback. 
The Perfect Horse will buck you off when you deserve it, but wait 
patiently for you to get back on.
The Perfect Horse has problems; He will teach you to deal with 
them. The Perfect Horse knows that you can't learn to be a skilled 
horseman if everything goes your way.
The Perfect Horse will challenge you, but only as much as you are 
ready to handle. He will teach you that you still have more 
to learn. The Perfect Horse will forgive you when you make mistakes, and 
expects you to do the same. He will try to ignore the tack that 
doesn't fit right, the confusing signals, and will do his best 
to please. He will teach you to work, 
but it will be worth it.The Perfect Horse may not be the prettiest or the fastest, but he has the most heart.

I brushed a tear away, tenderly placed the poem into my pocket. With a final pat to Tequila, I left the basement with a new thought on my mind. I couldn’t just let Dynamite be shipped off to another owner! I couldn’t just give up on him like the lady who had sold him to me, and the people before that. Horses were more to me than just items on a conveyor belt. He did have star potential, after all, even if it did come with a side of star attitude.

Motivated, I strode to his adorned stall and looked through the bars. He was there alright – wet and looking quite sullen. I always believed that horses had feelings identical to ours, but they never seemed to show them. Not until I met this one, at least.

“Hey, boy,” I said softly, my shaky voice reverberating in my ears. This was insane. There was no way I could do this. Fighting the voice inside my head, I pushed the sliding door just enough for my slim figure to slip in, and close it right away.

His presence intimidated me, but I held my ground. One of his delicate, chestnut ears was swiveled towards me, but it seemed as if he wanted nothing to do with me either. He flicked his tail and swayed his head.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out for his shoulder. He side-stepped, skirting away from my hand. I saw the familiar craze return to his knowing eyes as he cowered against the corner of his box.

This reminded me of when a spider waddled its way into my house. I was six or seven back then, playing with my Breyers when I saw a shifting black creature, slowly moving across my room. Obviously, I did what any other seven year old girl would do in my position –scream. My parents, who thought that I must’ve seriously injured myself, sprinted to my aid.

“T-T-There,” my squeaky, shaky voice stammered, pointing to the spider. My mom breathed a sigh of relief and hugged me, while my dad smiled. “It’s okay, Katherine. He’s probably lost. Look.”

I watched as my father took a piece of paper, and tenderly placed the small spider on it. He walked to the garden while I curiously walked behind, peering over his shoulder occasionally. We finally let it go on a blade of grass and observed as it scampered away.

“See, Kitty. He was probably more afraid of you then you were of him,” my dad explained to me, a knowing and gentle smile on his face.

I nodded then, and giggled, eagerly skipping after where I had last seen the spider.

And as I watched Dynamite, I asked myself – what if he was more afraid of me then I was of him? Like bullies; they were terrified when people took charge of them, and stood up to them. And I had stood up to Code Red in the ring with my harsh riding.

But there would’ve probably been a better way to stand up to him, it occurred to me.

“It’s too late now, Dynamite. I’m sorry that I didn’t settle it in a different matter.” My formal apology didn’t seem to affect the chestnut, who was now laying down with his nose in the shavings.  I crouched, getting down to his level. He raised his head and flared his nostrils which might’ve succeeded in freaking me out if I were another horse.

He wanted to be the boss of me, because others had tried to be the boss of him. But as I reached out for his shoulder I spoke to him quietly. “I’m not your master, Dye. And you’re not mine. You’re my teammate. We’re equals in this relationship.”

I swear, what happened next is a moment I will always remember. The moment when that wild look in his eyes just flooded out and was replaced with gentle, amber eyes, smiling softly at me.