Last night, I had a dream that I was riding an immaculate, white horse in a show, jumping him around. The jumps were huge and brightly colored, and the horse was a stranger to me; that is, I'd never met him in real life (I was a horse trainer for many years in reality). But in the dream, I was alone in the ring, practicing, and it was a struggle every step of the way. The horse was extremely fancy and expensive, and yet we didn't click very well, but I carried on. Then the scene switched, and I was riding a bay horse, Johnny, one that I once knew and trained, and both he and I were covered in mud. I was getting ready to ride him in the show like that -- all muddy -- when I looked down at my muddy boots, shrugged, and woke up.
I woke with a smile, thinking of Johnny. I miss him from time to time. A trainer is supposed to maintain a sort of distance, and I usually did, but I admit that with him, I became somewhat attached. He could sure be cranky with some people, but he was attached to me as well. In fact, many were afraid of him; he was huge and quite intimidating in his stall.
By nature, like many wild animals, to ward off insects and scratch their
backs, horses like to roll in the grass, or preferably, the mud. For
them, it's an instinctual move. Back when I rode hunter/jumpers, we
spent hours brushing the horses and giving them baths, especially if a
show was coming up. But when I think back, the whole deal is rather
hilarious, because we were literally fighting against nature every day.
In nature, they get dirty on purpose, and then the rain washes them
clean.
In nature, everything just works out.
An expensive, immaculate, white show horse, or a muddy, cranky Johnny? I loved Johnny for his flaws. I'd pick him any day.
Love is a curious thing, even when it comes to animals. Some people get to us, and they may be full of life and "muddy," and they never seem to leave our hearts. Others who seem to be "pristine show horses" might fade away.
It's all about the insides, nature, and the soul, in my belief. In nature, everything just works out.
C.A. MacConnell
