Sunday morning I woke to find a palomino horse in my back yard. About eight o'clock I'd let my dog, Rita, out of the garage and she immediately began barking warnings, so I followed her, and there, grazing, was this horse, so beautiful that all my instincts said "stay." But the majestic creature was pulling our well-tended lawn up by the roots, so I clapped and called out, "Go Home!" The horse looked at me like I was a mosquito.
I advanced toward the horse (you have to know that I'm completely stupid when it comes to horses, cows or any animal but cats and dogs), and as soon as I took my first step, Rita ran barking in front of me. So the horse ambled off to the side of the house, went around, and then was in the FRONT yard. The condition now was worse. Again I advanced towards the enormous animal thinking of all the TV pictures I've seen and movies I've sat through in which people cuddle up to those large beautiful heads. I wondered—if I had an apple and held it out, would the horse come and nuzzle it from my hand?
No, Christin! Don't feed it! OK, so again it's "Go Home," and waving my arm to point the way, and Rita rushing up to the horse barking, and the horse looking at us as if to say, "Relax!" At that point I went into the house for my camera and snapped some pictures. Then went to the deck for the little BB gun, thinking that the popping noise would startle the horse just enough that he would trot off down the road home—wherever home might be. But I'd never shot the BB gun before and couldn't make it work. The BBs just dropped out on the steps.
I imagined myself walking up to the horse and running my hand down the long cream-colored star on the front of his face. I imagined leaping on his back like the girl in the movie "Horse Whisperer." I'm closing in on old age and have never ridden a horse. How did that happen? The best I was able to do was, from a distance of several feet, urge the palomino stallion off the front yard and into the little circle of grass at the turn-around in the drive.
We have many horse ranches in the area, and this palomino could have come from anywhere. I promised myself that in a minute I would place some calls to find the owner. In the meantime I'd just gaze at him, standing in front of my house, looking like a dream I might have had, picturesque, absorbing the sunlight.