....But I have Asthma: Behind the Inhaler Pt.5

One of my absolute favorite parts about reading is when you can make a direct connection into the story. When you can sit back and easily say "I know exactly what that's like."

In the fourth grade I had road a different barn than I do today (yes another blog post about horses). I had always been curious about this medium, chestnut horse who resided in the main isles last stall. There were three stalls between him on one side and a wall on the other, no horse lived in the stall across from him. I heard through the grape vine that this horse "Jack" was crazy. He bucked everyone off, he bit people, he charged other horses, and he genuinely hated life. You can imagine the terror I felt the day my trainer told me to "go ahead and tack up the crazy one." Reassuring, right?

I walk over to this horses stall cautiously, I was after all preparing for my emanate death. At first glance Jack was a very handsome horse. He had large "blazing" eyes, you can tell a lot about a horse by there eyes. Where they've been, what they're like, how bad they've been treated. You can see it all, if you bother to look deep enough. I instantly knew that this horse wasn't "mean," "evil," or "crazy." He was broken, beaten, and given up on.

Me being as curious as I was held my breath, reached out my hand and unlatched the bars to his stall. Almost immediately Jack whipped his head around and bit me right on the forearm. Me having no patients for rude horses looked him right in the eye and bit him back. Yes you're thinking "that's cruel!" "he's just an animal!" "I'M E-MAILING PETA!" Well guess what, he bit me first, I'm an animal too.

After I bit him he stood as though he had been a lesson horse his whole life. He stood and watched as I hesitantly tacked him up , and followed my every movement with paranoid acuteness. I led him to the arena, I tightened his girth, I quickly mounted (I had heard horror stories about him rearing and charging when people tried to mount) and had the best ride of my life.

In a way Jack became my horse. I trusted him and he trusted me. After a while he began to recognize me, he'd even "snicker" when I called for him. My trainer couldn't believe it. I got this "crazy" horse to go around the arena jumping like he had been doing it his whole life.

I saw something in Jack and he saw something in me. I was the only person who could pet him, ride him, jump him, and control him. His owner hadn't a clue. She owned her horses for her lesson program. Jack had fallen into her hands due to a friends passing, the bitter horse was just sent to exile to be ignored until I came a long. He wasn't trusted and she didn't want him. He was a "menace to the barn."

I think maybe the reason he saw something in me is because I myself saw something in him. He had been given up on and I gave him more than an opportunity to buck some kid off, I gave him the chance to be cared about, a chance to be "heard."

Jack had never done nothing wrong. He had been put in a position to become bitter, cruel, and mean (if you were thrown into exile in a 12x14 stall you would go crazy too). Horses are wild animals. They will attack when frightened, or provoked.

I sometimes wonder that if I had been there on that September night I'd still have him.

I walked into the barn on a Thursday like I would any other. I had been consistently working with Jack for a year and a half at this point, and was excited for yet another day with him. About half way down the isle I called out like I did every time "Jack Jack!" No snicker, no whinny. I knew before I even reached his stall that something had happened. I knew something was wrong.

Come to find out by one of the stall cleaners that Jack had bitten a girl in the forehead, and his owner instantly put him down him to avoid legal issues.

The girl didn't need stitches, and she didn't go to the hospital.

I found out a week later by a witness that the little girl had been taunting Jack with a carrot when he "bit" her. The witness thinks he was simply just trying to get the carrot.

Atticus said it's sin to kill a mockingbird. It's sin to kill something that had never done anything wrong. It's not Jack's fault. Horses don't get to pick the people in their lives. It's all luck. It's not his fault that man corrupted him into the bitter horse that others came to see him as.

I've yet to find a horse that even comes close to Jack. I don't think I'll ever forget him.

~*~
An update about the World Equine Games in Lexington! I have a few pictures just to add to this already lengthy blog post (honestly some people write a five sentence paragraph and say it took them fifteen minutes).

Just chilling...on a giant goose. This goose is actually a jump! It was part of the cross country eventing course. The course also included a giant fish jump, and bird jump.