Aunt Sadie was the first person to introduce me to horses. I was in a euphoric cloud – so much so that I don’t remember how many times we went out there and for what period of time. She talked my parents into buying me my very first pieces of horse equipment. They surprised me with a bridle and saddle – a light brown bridle that came with a gigantic bit and a matching western saddle we learned a few months later was intended for little kids. We purchased a thick wool western saddle pad for $35 which over time molded to the shape of the horse’s back. I’ve bought several saddle pads since and always go back to the original one with the blue and white Navajo print. The final thing we purchased was a hot pink stiff brush.
I arrived at the barn with my new equipment and Aunt Sadie and I set to work tacking up Miss Anne. When it came down to it, Aunt Sadie wasn’t exactly the horse person of the family – that had been her husband. And Miss Anne wanted no part in returning to work once she had tasted the good life of retirement. We were the blind leading the blind with a less than cooperative subject. It must have taken us 20 minutes just to get the bridle on Miss Anne’s head. I had read enough books that I already knew how to get the saddle on, so the two of us made that happen and I was up on a real horse for the first time ever! I also had read enough books that I knew the basics of steering and stopping. My ride generally consisted of taking Miss Anne around the pond. She would wiggle and weave in utter dismay at leaving her pasture pals. I would insist that she go forward, and eventually we would make it to the small, murky body of water. About half-way around she would grab the bit, pull the reins out of my hands, and take off to the barn where I would grab mane and lean forward to keep from being scraped off by the ceiling. Once Miss Anne was back under the shade in her happy place with her best buddies she would stop and then look at us as if to say, “I’m done with you.” Aunt Sadie would grab Miss Anne’s bridal to make sure the mare didn’t take me anywhere else that might kill me. She pretended like it wasn’t a big deal and I would pretend like I wasn’t about to vomit from fear because we both wanted it to work so badly that we wouldn’t give any indication of fear or even lack of fun. We would then pull all the tack off and head back to the world of paved driveways, bicycles, and basketball goals.
Eventually the Mississippi season of cold weather and mud set in and our trips to see the horses got further and further apart until we never went back. I moved on to a real lesson barn and got my own horse. A few years later Aunt Sadie called to tell me Miss Anne had passed away. Within a couple of weeks Betty Boop followed her – a common thing for horses of their age that had spent so much of their lives together.
I can’t say that I learned a lot from that experience, but it was wonderful to finally get to spend time with the animals that so often galloped through my dreams. Aunt Sadie will forever hold a special place in my heart for being the person who finally introduced me to horses. Thank you Aunt Sadie!
Soli deo gloria,
Sarah
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