So a fat lady rode my horse and now he's limping. She wasn't fat really, just she must have had bones the size of those big round poster tubes. If I had ten more of her I could have a killer football team. I have no idea how many guys are on a football team. She was a hard cardboard poster limbed giant, 5'11 (which I used to be til I shrank to the shrimp boat 5'10 that I am and my six foot son looks down on me. In every way.) But wait back to the lumbering giant.
I kind knew we weren't perfect for each other because on her website she makes candles and she quoted some bible verse from the Cornelius or the corndogs or something. Homemade candle making church giant. But she had $35 dollars and she wanted to come give it to me, she was in fact kind of insisting and I was just gonna take my horse over to the arena anyway, might as well get paid to do what I do for free.
I had in the back of my mind this thought: your horse will be flattened. Your round stomached, pin legged horse who is built for racetracks and tiny baby chick sized men in the Kentucky Derby is not going to like to heft around God's chosen heavyweight. But $35 dollars kept sounding so good, and it was hot and I was tired. And I like to meet these weird horse people who hand me money and then entertain me with their psychosis while the horses and I just listen and walk our dusty trails just the same.
This month so far it's been Courtney, who's finishing up at USC and has flossed her mind into a nice, sanitary situation where there is no original thought. But at least she weighed like nothing. And then there was Andi whom I liked because she told me about thru_rider on Instagram who is a badass girl riding the PCT trail alone with two horses up to Canada from Arizona. But Andi never came back, andi, why? She was too smart for me. Then there's Amelia, a tiny Australian with a bawdy sense of humor who likes to knock back a few and sells pet medication out of her car. Amelia and I are the shit. She's come three times in a row.
But I got this huge mom on Dewey, and she had no idea what she was doing, but I did what I do best, which is pretend she was the best rider ever. Because really, when people get on my big horse, they relax, and slow down, and that's what I'm here for. To spread that Dewey peace.
It was dark when we got all untacked and done, but the money was in my pocket, and my kids are expensive so that helps. It feels good to get paid for something that feeds your heart. But then this morning there is Dewey holding his foot carefully out like he's been speared, and giving me the tired eye like 35 dollars? Really Jule?
I will respect my meaty horse with the delicate ankles of a 9 year old figure skater. No more fat chicks.
