Under the Wire

Everyone has their weaknesses. For some it’s chocolate, others cave in when it comes to caffeine. There are, of course, several very serious addictions that can affect lives. I have one of those.

My addiction, while not as widely publicized as some, is not all that uncommon. I am addicted to ... horses. I consider myself a fairly ‘got it together’ type of guy until a horse gets close by. Then I’m gone. This is a habit, as many of you know, that is hard to break. It’s sneaky. Let me give you an example of just how insidious this dependence can be.

Last Tuesday began like most. I woke up early, rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. I can’t begin the day without it. It’s not an addiction, though. I could get along without it. I just had better not ever have to! You coffee drinkers know what I mean. After the Hills Brothers had propped my eyes open, I made my way to the barn to feed the horses. As I was feeding them, I thought to myself, “Not today. No sir, you aren’t going to get me today. Today I’m going to be strong.” In fact, I decided to show my new found resolve. I’d just work in the office all day. As I passed the last stall I noticed it needed cleaned. This isn’t one of my favorite horse experiences but if I got to “Jonesing” too much (that’s addict talk for missin’ it.) I would get the rake and wheel barrow out.

The first 30 minutes in the office went fairly well. I opened last week’s mail, read all my funny emails and threw away all the notes reminding me to do this or that. Most hadn’t been done. The world hadn’t ended. Maybe they weren’t so important anyway.

About that time, however, I began to think about the dirty stall. “OK,” I thought, “I’ll work here until noon, then go clean it.” Ten more minutes passed.

“How could I expect old Jasper to stand in such a dirty stall,” I began to rationalize. That’s how this addiction works. Before I was even aware what was happening, I found myself standing in the barn, surrounded by wonderful horse sounds and smells. It was all downhill from there. In order to clean the stall, I needed Jasper out of there. I could have simply pushed him out the door into his run. Instead, bad choices began to set in. I grabbed his halter and tied him up in the barn’s alley. As I did this it was obvious the Sorrel gelding needed brushed. “That won’t take but a second, “I told myself. Twenty minutes later, brushed, tail and mane combed, he looked so nice I decided to saddle him so I could look at him as I worked.

Faulty thinking had begun to set in. Without even realizing what I was doing, my good calf roping saddle was soon strapped to his back. There’s nothing more pathetic looking than a saddle like that without a rope handing over the horn. It was when I put the 36 thread polygrass over the horn that I lost it.

Two hours later I realized what I had just done. Jasper was sweaty, the practice calves appeared tired and I somehow was hot and dirty. I don’t remember a thing. Sheepishly I returned my horse to his dirty stall and headed back to the house and my office. As I sat down at my desk for the second time that day, I noticed one of the notes I’d tried to throw away earlier. As I looked at it, the depth of my addiction because obvious. There, in my own handwriting were the words,

“Never, ever go out to clean Jasper’s stall before all office work is done.” It was dated two days earlier. Jasper had gotten ridden that day, too.

Oh, well. Maybe I’ll try to give up coffee instead.