Quote from Forum Archives on November 8, 2004, 6:13 pm

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

"Boy & His Dog"  

 

     

 

A dog had followed his young owner, who was a public elementary fourth
grader, to school.

 

When the bell rang, the dog sidled inside the building. He made it
all the way to the child's classroom before a teacher noticed.
She then shooed the dog outside and closed the door behind him.

 

The dog sat down, whimpered and stared at the closed door.

 

Then God appeared beside the dog, patted his head, and said, "Don't
feel bad fe lla'....... they won't let ME in either."

 

 

"Shadow"    

 

It started to snow outside, and hoping for a bit of diversion
from the typical Minnesota winter weather, we decided to
go to a horse sale in town. We watched with interest as the
fancy horses with shiny coats came parading in. Some had
glitter on their hips or festive red and green ribbons in their
manes because it was just before Christmas. There were
horses of all colors, shapes and sizes, and everyone was in a
bidding frenzy.

Lots of people were going to get expensive horses for
Christmas it seemed. Some of the animals had experience
working cows and some had experience in the show ring.
Others co-earn their keep by pulling a sleigh. Eager to own
the finest prospects, a number of people in the crowd were
bidding hundreds and even thousands of dollars.

"Here's a four-year-old sorrel mare, 15.3-hands high, with
forty-two halter points," the auctioneer bellowed. "Her
bloodlines include Sonny Dee Bar, Tender Six and Zanzabar
Joe. Do I hear five thousand, five thousand one, five two?"

I was fascinated by the spectacle. Every magnificent horse
that came through had a story and bloodline that the auctioneer
read. The crowd would "ooh" and "aah" in response and
then the bidding war would begin. A couple over here, then
a man over there and a lady in front of me all bid on the
same horse, until he was "going, going, gone!" Then the
next horse entered and the process started all over again,
taking at most, ten to fifteen minutes per horse. Fifty to
sixty horses were sold that day.

Eventually, they got to the last one, a skinny little black
pony. The crowd roared with laughter. The pony was led
in by a fifteen-year-old boy, who sat on her and then jumped
up and down on her back, proclaiming, "She's broke to
ride." She had big brown eyes under a long forelock that
was full of dried manure and weed seeds.

"She's going to take some time to clean up," the auctioneer
stated. "And she needs a few groceries to fatten her up."

Then, looking around, he asked, "Anybody know the story
on this one?"

One of the helpers whispered something into his ear and he
announced, "The owner forgot about this one out in the
pasture and now he wants to get rid of her. She is not
registered. There's no pedigree that we know of. Okay, who
will give me three hundred for the old mare?"

The crowd was still laughing.

"How about two? Okay, one! Will anybody give me fifty
bucks for her?"

The crowd continued to snicker at the lonely, forgotten
little pony.

"Okay, get her out of here!" he told the boy who led her in.

So she turned her head as if to say good-bye then hung her
head and walked out. The boy put her back in her stall and
proceeded to help the new owners with their horses. One
by one, the horses clip-clopped by her stall to meet their
new families. The lonely little black mare just hung her head.

Every time a person walked by, her ears would perk up and
she would raise her head in anticipation that maybe, just
maybe, someone wanted her. But then there would be only
more snickers and the sound of fading footsteps. Finally,
she would drop her head. The pony turned around so she
didn't have to watch the other horses parade by.

It broke our hearts to watch this. We just looked at each
other and nodded. Randy went one way and I went the other.
We found the auctioneer and said, "Will you take ten dollars?"

He looked at us, puzzled, "For what?" he asked.

"The little black mare," we said excitedly.

"SOLD!" he said with a shake of his head and a smirk.

Without access to a proper horse trailer, we loaded her into
the bed of my Toyota pickup, and to a chorus of titters and
guffaws, headed for home.

For the last two years of her life, Shadow had the neighborhood
kids begging to ride her, brush her or just be by her side,
dreaming of the adventures tomorrow would bring for the
both of them. We laugh when we remember the faces of those
folks at the auction and the sight of the dirty old pony in the
bed of our pickup. But the joy and the laughter we had sharing
life with Shadow far exceeded the laughter at the sale barn
that night.
T. C. Wadsworth

 

 

Have a Blessed Day

Dave and Barbara

 

 

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