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Guest
Guest
When I got home, alittle while ago my former roommate (and now next door neighbor) informed me the boarding stables where I kept my two horses had called for me.
I called them back immediately. Glen, The owner of the stables informed me that Diver had been let into the pasture this morning and like every day he spent an hour running and cavorting with the mares. (There’s a reason I always loved that boy)
But Glen had bad news. He in formed me that while playing Diver had apparently stepped in a hole and went down hard, tumbling headlong on his neck. Glen saw it happen, and immediately rushed out to him, but Diver couldn’t seem to move aside from his eyes and ears and very shallow breathing. At noon he was put to sleep.
I am even more saddened by the fact that because of daily obligations here I have not been to see the horses for nearly two months. Still I think remembering the fun we had when I was last there may be better.
I bought Diver at a rodeo auction nearly 15 years ago. At 8 years old he had been a fairly successful local barrel racer. But he had torn muscles in his front legs and while they had healed well the owners were reluctant to race him again, finally deciding he was too old for that sort of thing. He was a gelding, so breeding was not an option And they had no further use for him.
They had attempted to sell him but had warned everyone of his seemingly “bad” temper. When I inspected him before the auction he seemed giddy and playful, nudging me with his nose and swishing me with his tail in my face as I checked his flanks. His snorts I could tell were not out of annoyance but more like laughter.
The owners told me of his temper tantrums and how he got his name. (he was an unregistered mutt) Seems that if he didn’t like the way he was ridden he would ignore all commands, walk to a big creek and lie down, saddle, rider and all. “Ride him hard or you’ll go diving in the creek.” They told me.
I bought diver for $500. No one else bid.
I soon learned that diver was indeed a spirited horse. But had no bad disposition, as I had been told. Instead he was more of a practical joker with a twisted sense of humor and a need for a rider who would let him do what he loved best. Run.
I swear to you, you could drink hot coffee while at a full gallop on his back without spilling a drop. And he could run forever. If you made him walk, however, He would fall asleep, walking into trees, stumbling constantly, brushing you through bushes. It was just his way of saying, “Step on it, Mac.”
A little over a year later I bought Pearl. Another mutt, but a buckskin beauty just the same. She and diver became best friends quickly, but she also knew her place. She was never to lead Diver on a trail, unacceptable to diver, not me.
For the past few years my friend’s wife has begged me to sell them to her, she has always wanted a horse. I’ll be calling her later with a special offer for Pearl.
*Pours a double shot of Irish Mist and adds a couple ice cubes.*
So here’s to Diver. The best horse I ever owned. And the best friend a cowboy that couldn’t be ever had.
You belong to the gods now my friend. Give ‘em hell and remember to dunk them once in a while just to show them who’s boss.
I called them back immediately. Glen, The owner of the stables informed me that Diver had been let into the pasture this morning and like every day he spent an hour running and cavorting with the mares. (There’s a reason I always loved that boy)
But Glen had bad news. He in formed me that while playing Diver had apparently stepped in a hole and went down hard, tumbling headlong on his neck. Glen saw it happen, and immediately rushed out to him, but Diver couldn’t seem to move aside from his eyes and ears and very shallow breathing. At noon he was put to sleep.
I am even more saddened by the fact that because of daily obligations here I have not been to see the horses for nearly two months. Still I think remembering the fun we had when I was last there may be better.
I bought Diver at a rodeo auction nearly 15 years ago. At 8 years old he had been a fairly successful local barrel racer. But he had torn muscles in his front legs and while they had healed well the owners were reluctant to race him again, finally deciding he was too old for that sort of thing. He was a gelding, so breeding was not an option And they had no further use for him.
They had attempted to sell him but had warned everyone of his seemingly “bad” temper. When I inspected him before the auction he seemed giddy and playful, nudging me with his nose and swishing me with his tail in my face as I checked his flanks. His snorts I could tell were not out of annoyance but more like laughter.
The owners told me of his temper tantrums and how he got his name. (he was an unregistered mutt) Seems that if he didn’t like the way he was ridden he would ignore all commands, walk to a big creek and lie down, saddle, rider and all. “Ride him hard or you’ll go diving in the creek.” They told me.
I bought diver for $500. No one else bid.
I soon learned that diver was indeed a spirited horse. But had no bad disposition, as I had been told. Instead he was more of a practical joker with a twisted sense of humor and a need for a rider who would let him do what he loved best. Run.
I swear to you, you could drink hot coffee while at a full gallop on his back without spilling a drop. And he could run forever. If you made him walk, however, He would fall asleep, walking into trees, stumbling constantly, brushing you through bushes. It was just his way of saying, “Step on it, Mac.”
A little over a year later I bought Pearl. Another mutt, but a buckskin beauty just the same. She and diver became best friends quickly, but she also knew her place. She was never to lead Diver on a trail, unacceptable to diver, not me.
For the past few years my friend’s wife has begged me to sell them to her, she has always wanted a horse. I’ll be calling her later with a special offer for Pearl.
*Pours a double shot of Irish Mist and adds a couple ice cubes.*
So here’s to Diver. The best horse I ever owned. And the best friend a cowboy that couldn’t be ever had.
You belong to the gods now my friend. Give ‘em hell and remember to dunk them once in a while just to show them who’s boss.
