Off to see the kids

I said to Bill this morning that horses aren't quite like dogs in showing unconditional love, especially after an absence. Human kids sometimes aren't either. Instead of that telltale tail wag, wiggly body and happy teeth smile, a kid may grunt at you or, if you're lucky give you a hug. A horse---well, I think we represent a means to an end.

"Bring me the grain, and bring it now," they'll mime while kicking the side of the barn, pacing back and forth or stretching their neck as far as horsely possible over that stall door in hopes of grabbing that first bite of oats. They seldom say thank you either because that head doesn't come up for air until the last morsal has been munched.

The next greeting is typically, "Iz that all?"

[ Just as I completed the sentence above, the cell phone rang. It was Monty, the trainer at the Spokane Equestrian Center.

"Bring grain," he said. Must be there was a little mental telepathy occurring or Lily was really kicking the side of the stall as he walked into his barn this morning. ]

I'm off to Spokane today to see those horse kiddies. Laurie will go with me after getting out of school, and we'll see what Miss Lily and Mr. Lefty have been learning at boot camp. We'll take the doggies along too, and I can assure you they'll greet everyone with their friendly Border Collie hello. I'm sure Lily and Lefty will appreciate seeing them. I told Bill that I hoped Lily and Lefty would at least acknowledge that they remember me.

Since I seldom was able to attend parent conferences with my human kids [was meeting and greeting parents of other kids at the same time], I'm excited about this first meeting with the teacher, with the kids present. I'm sure Monty have a list of the good, the bad and the ugly to share with me about the two of them.

Actually, Lefty will probably get an A+ for good behavior. He's as sweet as they come, and most of the time, cooperative. If his work ethic is anything like his personality, the report will most likely be glowing.

Now, Lily's a different story. She walks, trots and canters to a different beat, and I'm sure Monty's going to have plenty of observations that match those I've accumulated after owning her for nearly 18 months. He hasn't said whether or not he's attempted to climb on to her yet. Since he called this morning, I know he's alive, and that's a good sign---or a sure sign that he has NOT climbed on yet.

I'm excited to see them and anxious to see how they look in my eye after being gone for ten days. There's this thing called "barnyard blindness," which we all learned about at an early age. When you look at your horses in your own barnyard, they eventually turn into the most beautiful animals on the planet. One must be wary of such things. One must have an objective mind and realize there are usually a lot prettier horses out there.

So, I'll be eyeing both of them closely in someone else's barnyard and hoping they still look just as pretty as they do in mine.

Happy Wednesday.