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OFFICIAL WEBSITE OF
GREENESPEAK PUBLICATIONS
CINDY BAILEY, EDITOR & PUBLISHER
Headquartered at:
99 S. Washington St., Waynesburg, PA
Greene County
MAILING ADDRESS:
P. O. Box 1003
Waynesburg, PA 15370
BUSINESS PH: 724-344-7980
E-MAIL: cindy@greenespeak.com
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POSTED MAY 10, 2008
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[Selected from the May 2008 print edition of GreeneSpeak]
Going in many directions out on the ridge
By Cindy Bailey
GreeneSpeak Editor & Publisher
So anyway, we pulled in the driveway and the greeting committee that showed up was 1,000 pounds of horse flesh who had been gorging on the never-ending-salad-bar-that-is-my-yard.
“How’d she get out again?” I asked.
Now, it doesn’t happen very often, but every once in awhile, Belle, Annie’s equine wonder, manages to outwit us all and find a new technique for squashing herself through our overpriced fencing and find freedom.
One time, I awoke to an early morning knock at the door which was Belle who apparently sniffed the oats Daddy was preparing for the girls’ breakfast. Annie just led her back to the barn and that was the end of that. We figured she had slipped on the ice and slid under the fence that time.
This episode, however, was more complicated. In my haste to heed nature’s call , I skipped to the front door to let myself in the basement door–where Belle obviously smelled her feed supply and came tearing across the painted cement.
“Oh man! Keep her off the por–” my husband croaked, but I thought it was sort of cute that she was following me and wondered what the fuss was about.
Poor Belle. Her hooves just couldn’t get any traction. One by one they slipped out from under her and she went down, looking as startled as I did I’m sure.
Now if you have never had a half-ton animal crash at your feet, you may not understand what a traumatizing sight it is. Although we soon knew she was unhurt, at first you figure the worst. As she sort of groaned and wallowed around and Rob came over to try to get her up, I flew inside to do you know what. The excitement was too much.
When I came back out they were both out of breath, wide-eyed, and in huge states of puzzlement.. Seems she had gone down a couple of more times as he tried to help her, but now he was cooing, “Whoa, Belle...whoa Belle...” (And I’m thinking, geeze, she’s already “whoaed” what we need here is a giddyUP). She was facing the block wall of the house, with her back to the world, sort of like she was embarrassed.... “Maybe I AM allowing my appetite to control my life....”
However, my husband, due to his more than three decades of associations with me and another 20 years with his daughters, has managed to hone his skills among the females, and to my amazement, that horse just lay there with her starry big eyes locked on him, just waiting because she knew he would take care of her and get it figured out. I was not quite so convinced yet.
So I was ordered to do the “Whoa, Belle” thing as he searched for some implement to address this situation. Now it doesn’t really work as well when your voice is more like a primal scream, but I did try....
You may already know my husband has a knack for turning anything into a useful and practical tool which is the exact item you need for your problem at this exact moment.. It’s a bizarre talent, really, but I’ll admit, I’ve taken advantage of it on numerous occasions.
So he grabs a strap of some sort and wraps it around her upper ribcage and I’m thinking more like a crowbar or board to pry her up. So he pulls and she budges a few inches toward the yard behind her and he repeats this about four times. And she jerks up her head and sees the grass again and starts to get up and I shriek and Rob looks at me with eyes that are paring knives and I pipe down. And she gets up on all four feet on the same slippery cement and struts off to the free buffet once again. I think I heard her hiss, “So, why didn’t YOU think of that?”
And my adorable husband put her safely away and is still puzzling over her Houdini-esque tendencies. And all I wanted to know was, “Okay, Rob, so how’d you do that?”
And he said, “I just needed to get her pointed in the right direction. When she was facing the wall she was trying to get up AND turn around at the same time and that’s why she kept falling down. Once she saw the grass, she knew where she was headed.”
And you know where this is going. The moral is: When you hit a brick wall, maybe all you really need to do is trust the Big Guy with all the tools to get you turned around in the right direction.
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