Throughout her life, Jill found solace at the stables. Happy or sad, angry or mellow, she need only walk along the stalls of horses to find equilibrium in her feelings. Each magnificent creature spoke to her, not in words but in their eyes, their breathing, their spirits. She knew they needed her, but she sometimes wondered if they realized how much she needed them too.
Today she paused briefly at two or three stalls, rubbing Caleb's nose and checking Janie's teeth, but Jill knew where the real work would lie. Her newest charge was a one-year-old Appaloosa who had been purchased by a Houston oil magnate for his teenage daughter. On principle, Jill had no problem with the situation, but she had to shake her head when she thought about the details of how this filly had been selected. "Poppa, I want that one! She's the prettiest," is really not the way to choose a horse. There were too many factors -- breed, age, training, purpose, and most importantly, temperament -- that should have gone into the equation, and hadn't.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Jill approached the stall. "Good morning, Avalanche," she said brightly.
The horse kicked at the stall door, and Jill jumped back. "Okay," she said. "Apparently you want to do this the hard way. Again."
No comments:
Post a Comment