My Horstery-Part 2

Misty, my first live horse. She lived at my grandparents where I would her visit on Sundays. She and I went where ever Misty wanted to go-- fortunately she never wanted to wander onto the road.

One day I came home from kindergarten to find all of our worldly goods packed onto the back of my grandparent's flatbed 2 ton truck. They were just waiting for me. I don't remember being surprised when they told me we were moving to the "Ranch". This was a small rural 3 acres or so owned by my grandparents and I was happy that Misty could live with us. I was supposed to ride her every day after school. I had a halter and lead rope to use for her, but I lost that privilege when I forgot to take it off one day after riding. So, she and I travelled around the neighbor's 10 acres, usually at a walk. All the neighborhood kids were drawn to her and we'd hang out on the hill beneath an oak tree, me sitting on her back--even though I was younger than the others, I enjoyed that ancient natural superiority of the horseman over mere mortals.

Occasionally Misty went much faster and the only fall that hurt was the time she was chasing some cows and lost me as she rounded a turn. The centrifugal force was just too strong and I landed in a thistle patch.

Our rides always ended with my unplanned dismount.

One sad day I came home and Misty wasn't in the pasture. I was told that the neighbors wanted more cows on their 10 acres, and our small acreage wouldn't support a horse as well as the milk cow and two calves.

And, thus began the long, barren, horseless period of my life--a dry desert with the longing for a horse becoming more painful every year. My fantasy was that some even-numbered birthday --I'd get a horse. It wasn't 8, it wasn't 10. But, the next 4-legged animal was not a horse--and nearly killed me.