A Horse is a Horse, of Course, of Course

I've never really been a horsey kind of person...they are beautiful, but they are big and have really heavy feet, so I'm a little scared of them. Heck, I never even played with My Little Pony. But my sister loves them, so I had several around me as I grew up. This entry is for you, Pammy.

My mother always told the story of when she knew my sister was going to wind up with hoof dressing in her veins. She took Pam to see the Budweiser Clydesdales when she was about 2 years old. She said Pam walked right up to them, unafraid of those huge feathery feet, and stood looking up, her face reflecting her newly found lifelong passion., mouth open, eyes wide. Yep, she was a goner.

From that moment on, there was always a horse, or 5, in her life. She rode her friend Teresa's horses before she ever had any of her own. Teresa rode Red, and Pam rode Sonny. (As I recall, it was Sonny who headed to the barn one day with me hanging on to Pam for dear life...I never heard Pam say DUCK! when we came to the clothes line...and off I went, thus ending any desire I might have had to ride again).

When my sister and brother and I played together at home, we played horses. We spent hours setting up little plastic fences and tin  barns...small plastic horses were the 'families'. When we didn't do that, WE were the horses. Well, THEY were the horses...I always seemed to be the pack mule, bribed with a sugar bit bridle.

Then, when Pam was about 16, along came Brandy. Even I had to admit, he was magnificent. A sorrel gelding with a white star in the middle of his forehead. She was head over heels in love with him. I remember Daddy tossing her the keys to the car that first Christmas. I think she knew the car wasn't the gift...it was the  beautifully tooled saddle in the trunk of the car that made her squeal like a 5 year old.

Brandy took up every spare moment she had. Pam was an excellent student, all A's, Honor Society, all that. But as soon as her school work was done, off we'd go to our grandmother's place to take care of Brandy. (Y'all remember Mama C, don't you?) Pam hauled hay, cleaned stalls, picked hooves, washed and brushed and curried that big red horse, loving every minute of it.

When Brandy came down with ringbone in his front leg, she worked like a fool trying to cure it. She would rub linament in to 'blister' it, until her own hands were as red as fire. When he got it in the other leg, it was clear that nothing more could be done, but ease his suffering. I thought she would die from a broken heart.

By the time Molly Pepper came along, Pam and Daddy had built a barn in the back of our house, just around the corner from the high school. It was really cool to walk home from school and see her out in the lot, kicking up her  heels. Molly, that is, not Pam. Molly was gorgeous too...red with a black mane and tail.

I can barely remember when Pam didn't have horses. There was a time in my life when I resented the fact that I wanted to talk with her about my babies, and she wanted to talk about her horses...I thought...NO COMPARISON!!!...but then I realized that her horses WERE her babies, so we were really sharing our parenting experiences, I just didn't know it at the time. (I'm sorry if I ever got pissy with you about that, Pam)

I don't think she'd want me to tell you how long it's been since she first laid eyes on that Clydesdale, but I can tell you that Pam's love of  horses still continues. The other pictures I posted weren't the real horses, only because I didn't have a picture of Brandy and Molly....but here is a real picture of Pam doing her thing with her boy, Tadpole. Don't they look good?