As usual, no one intended malevolence. When the doctor told
me, “You’ll just need a little surgical shoe after this surgery,” he surely
believed it, I surely believed him, and, though never has what a doctor told me
before a foot surgery been 100
percent accurate after the same, I
just took him at this word, because, well, he believed it, and, so, I believed
him.
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| The Wheelie |
I have no idea what happened exactly during the surgery to change the circumstances so that I now have to use the little wheelie or crutches (which we had to get at the hospital because, well, we went prepared for not needing anything non-weight bearing). The doctor spoke with Mike, who didn’t get all the meaning. I don’t blame him; we had been there, by that time, roughly eight hours, he wanted to be sure I had woken from the thing, wanted to get me home, himself home, back to the dogs who ran out the front door ecstatically! “You’re home! You’re home! What happened to your foot? It doesn’t matter! You’re home!” as I crawled up the three steps to the living room to
the couch.
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| Adoring Dogs |
And came to a very different Christmas vacation from school
than I had intended.
We can do this; we have, after all, done it multiple times
before. I own one of the wheelies. Mike went to the storage shed, dug it out,
it still works, probably could use a tune up (which is what the doctor
originally said my foot needed), but we have everything needed to take care of
a person post-foot surgery, even unexpectedly. And I have a cat who checks in,
will lie with me on occasion, and dogs who never leave my side but for a walk
with Mike—and, even then, return early.
But, oh, I miss the horses.
I did not visit them the day before the surgery, though I
had ridden both the day before the
day before. Though the beautiful grey Ghost Ryder is not truly mine, I have privileges of him at times,
and he and I have an understanding. My gorgeous painted Tripp stands and allows
himself a hug or two; he loves
scratches and rubs—and carrots. But, Ghostie, once I put my arms around his neck for an embrace of that big boy, circles his great neck around my back to…..well, he hugs back. Ghostie came from somewhere that not only did not award carrots easily; they apparently had not understood dinner very well, and when he arrived, every bone the gorgeous boy had, showed. He learned, though, fairly quickly, once treats were allowed, how to eat a carrot (we literally had to teach him), that apples taste sweet, that humans, though previously the bringers of harm, can bring good and fullness and what you need, or even, at times, want.
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| Beautiful Ghostie Boy |
scratches and rubs—and carrots. But, Ghostie, once I put my arms around his neck for an embrace of that big boy, circles his great neck around my back to…..well, he hugs back. Ghostie came from somewhere that not only did not award carrots easily; they apparently had not understood dinner very well, and when he arrived, every bone the gorgeous boy had, showed. He learned, though, fairly quickly, once treats were allowed, how to eat a carrot (we literally had to teach him), that apples taste sweet, that humans, though previously the bringers of harm, can bring good and fullness and what you need, or even, at times, want.
Ghost Ryder hugs me. And other people, I’m sure. Tripp follows me to the gate in pasture, ready
to come in and work.
I miss the horses.
George Gregory, a rancher in the movie “Wild Horse, Wild
Ride,” a film about training wild mustangs in 100 days for competition, said
something like, “Bonding with a horse is an emotional thing.
You feel it more
than see it.” As prey animals, they trust less easily than our loved dogs….they
must learn confidence in humans, be sure we won’t eat them. But, when we start
to get that relationship with them, it rewards in ways so rich and full. A
person could have three heads, the sheer look of any one of which could stop a
truck, and a dog will run to you, lick you, so happ
y to see you after the absence
of ten seconds or ten hours. I adore my dogs and want them in my life forever. A
horse’s affection, though, must be earned, and its reciprocity, if not as
obvious to others, rings just as true and authentic.
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| Tripp Greeting Me |
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| Always Happy to See Me |
I’ve missed weeks with Tripp (and Ghostie-boy) before. As
previously, when I return to the farm, to the smell that I inhale like good
wine, to the sounds of nickering horses, of stomping hooves, to horse culture,
Tripp will again walk or trot or, as happens sometimes, run to greet me, lower his
beautiful head for his halter, his blue eye turned my way watching my
movements, or maybe his brown one glancing towards me that day, will walk with me back to the barn so we'll work. Ghost Ryder will watch to
see if he, too, gets to come in for a ride and a treat. They won’t forget, and
others in my absence will rub them, will ride that big grey boy, will tell
Tripp I miss him.
They will be fine.
When I return, it will be with a better foot, an easier
walk, a nicer gait of my own……
But, oh, I miss the horses.
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| Ghost Ryder and Tripp |
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