I have never been
up close and personal
with a horse.
I loved looking at them
majestic
silky coats of red and brown
munching on grass
or prancing
in fields
as I rode by in the car
on a Sunday afternoon drive.
But I never got out and touched one.
So when I met Wes
and found out he had a trotter
that he was training for harness racing
I was a tad bit nervous.
And when he asked me to go out and meet him
believe me I wasn't too thrilled about it
but I went anyway.
Here was this big old barn
and horses in the stalls
making shuddering noises
through their noses
and Wes went inside
and started taking leather things out of a big box
and I stayed on the outside
looking in.
He brought out his horse
which had rolling lunatic eyes
and said
"This is Misty's Button."
I about cracked my neck
bending it back
to look up at this
wild and puffing creature.
Wes dragged out a cart
and hooked up his horse
and got in the cart
and took a whip
and off they went
around and around the track
Wes checking his stopwatch
making the horse run faster each time
and it was hot and dusty and I felt dizzy.
He did this every weeknight after work.
Dinner always had to be put off
until he was done.
Then came the time
when Wes decided Button was ready to race
at a county fair
so he rented a horse trailer
and hooked it to his car
and off we went.
It was a long ways away
up and down hills
around corners
and I could hear Button
and it seemed to me that he was running
from one side of the trailer to the other
being very noisy
and making the trailer
sway
dangerously on the hills.
I prayed quite a bit on that trip.
So anyway, we finally get there
and Wes gets Button out of the trailer
and he commences to kick things over
and holler
and Wes is trying to hold onto him
and right the buckets and whatever
and suddenly he handed me the rope
and said
"Here, hold him."
Well, that horse was heavy
and mad as all get-out
and he rared up
so that I could see his belly
and hooves
up close and personal
and I screamed
"I can't hold onto him!"
and that horse came down
on all fours
and missed me by an inch.
I rubbed my rope-burned hands on my jeans
and thanked the Lord that I was still alive.
Wes finally got him hooked up
with leather straps going this way and that
and I got worried about him
trying to drive that crazy horse
and getting hurt
but Wes was happy sitting in his cart
with his whip
and going off to the racetrack
with Button.
I could see the look of excitement on his face.
I ran over to the fence
and stood with the crowd
to watch.
My heart was going pitty-pat
with hope
as the bugler played "Taps".
Button fussed and fumed about getting in the starting gate
but finally he went in
and the announcer said
"And they're off!"
and Button came out of the gate
like a bat out of Hell
but he broke.
He tripped.
He bobbled.
By this time all the other horses
were rounding the quarter pole
and when Button saw that
he took off running
hooves digging into the dirt
poor Wes hanging on for dear life
but of course he couldn't catch up
and came in dead last.
In the end, though
Button wasn't cut out to be a race horse
in spite of his impeccable ancestry
of racing dams and sires.
He liked being driven around the dirt track
at home
but as soon as he got to the real thing
a racetrack
his eyes started rolling
and he kicked and bucked
and broke.
So eventually Wes had to sell him
to a nice home
where the farmer's daughter just wanted to ride him
and where he could spend his days
lounging around
with no expectations
or demands
made on him.
Wes felt bad
and I felt bad for him
but personally
I never did like that horse
with the rolling lunatic eyes.
Music Playing: TAPS
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