Daddy gave Taffy to
me on my seventh birthday, complete with a new saddle and a bright red saddle
blanket. I could tell from the
first time I got on him that he didn’t have a brain in his head. In my shiny new cowboy boots I gave
Taffy a giddy up kick and he just stood there like some nougat covered
statue. Daddy whomped him good on
the rear end and Taffy took off like a lightening bolt with me hanging on for
dear life. I wasn’t expecting that
old nag to gallop with such power as he jumped over ditches, flying through the air,
and landing with such force that I nearly bit my tonsils. Somehow I manage to
hang on for the wildest ride of my life til’ he finally wore himself out and
slowed to a walk.
Daddy
came barreling along in his Jeep thinking he would find me in a pile of legs
and bones having the shit knocked out of me. He was so surprised to see me still a sittin’ on that steed. I could tell he was mighty proud of me,
just a whip of a seven-year-old girl, my pigtails unraveled, sweat pouring down
my cheeks and breathing like a dragon after a battle.
“Why
I didn’t think that old nag had it in him, “ Daddy said laughing. “He never so much ever did more than a
loopy trot before. You’ve got
yourself a one hell of a horse, sister.”
He
may be one hell of a horse, but old Taffy never so much as ever broke into a
gallop ever again. He just plugs
along like a saddle weary packhorse.
He is just a hay burner and pooper, and if he has it in him he just
ambles up to the water trough and stands there admiring his reflection and never
drinks a drop. At least never when I am lookin’ at him.
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