It is part of the cowboy mentality; which is better, letting your broken arm heal or rappelling down the face of Mount Everest on a dare?
Dave had two 3-year-old fillies in training.
He’s a bit of an eclectic cowboy; he paints eggs, likes Yoko Ono’s music, and has read Jack Kerouac’s book “On The Road.”
So it was not unusual to find himself in the corral wearing shorts and Birkenstocks, throwing an English saddle on one of the fillies.
Sometimes horses disguise their resentment of a horse trainer’s smug arrogance by cooperating. Other days they just say “Stick it in your ear!”
The filly bucked him out of his Birkenstocks, over his head and into the fence!
Dave found himself on the ground and hip-locked. His knee worked, but he could not lift his left leg forward.
Walking was sort of a step-shuffle-step-shuffle-stumble-slide gait.
As you would expect of a true cowboy, over the next three days he fulfilled his promise to help gather the neighbor’s cows, but he was handicapped.
To mount his horse involved a step stool and powerful shoulders.
A potty break was out of the question!
Saturday came with no improvement but he was adjusting — eating on the sofa, walking in circles and pirouetting.
Though he could still not lift his leg, he could bend over. So, when Uncle Herman wanted his big Belgian mare shod, Dave said, “Bring her over.”
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