Black (not-so) Beauty

by Brendon Cook

I trudged through the ankle-deep mud to the paddock. I opened the gate and hooked the two horses to their leads. I carefully guided them out, trying to avoid the electric fence. A motor-cycle drove down the street, spooking one of the horses. He reared up, whinnying. I spoke some calming words and stroked his neck. He calmed down and let me lead him into the barn and finally his stall. I unhooked the lead and slid the door shut.

I brought the other horse, Sydney, into the adjacent stall. I flipped her mane out of her face. I filled her feed bucket and gave her a little more water. I headed back outside. It was starting to rain. I ran through a few gates and trudged through… was that urine? I pushed the thought from my mind and kept going. The horses needed to come in. I brought them in two at a time, until there were none left out in the pasture. I ran into the stables and looked at myself. My legs were coated in mud and ---? My back was soaking with rain.

‘Why?’ I asked myself. ‘Why do I do this? What is driving me to such extremes for these walking manure spreaders?’

A horse next to me sneezed; covering my face with spittle. I started laughing. “Now I remember!” I said aloud while patting the horse, “It's fun!”
 

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