I can’t find my horse. OK, he’s not actually my horse but for the next hour he is. I know what he looks like too. Bright chestnut. Just like that one. Oh, and that one over there. But they aren’t him. Hmmm, he’s around here somewhere. I continue winding through the maze of paddocks. Now where’s my horse?

I give up. I slowly approach the indoor hoping he’ll jump up and say here I am!

“I can’t find him.”  This is sooo embarrassing!

“Did you look for a bright chestnut?”

“Uh-huh. I saw several but not him. Where is he?”

“Hmmm, over there under the tree with the fly sheet on.”

“Oh. That’s why I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t see him.”
Walked right past him. I know me eyes are bad but…

I entered the paddock and retrieved the camouflaged horse I sought. He walks placidly next to me. A little too placidly. I look at him a little more closely and take inventory.

Bright chestnut? Check.
Matching mane? Check.
Fuzzy? Check.
Fly sheet? Check.
16.2 hands? More or less. Check.
Playful? No.  Right horse? There were two under that tree…

I proceed to groom and tack him still questioning my selection. Maybe he’s sleepy. Why isn’t he trying to nibble on anything? Usually he’s 16 going on 3 but not today. Right horse?

I enter the indoor and while tightening his girth I hear something that causes my heart to skip a beat.

“Hey, is that Page or Rocco?”

I sneak a glance at my instructor who hasn’t responded yet.

“Please, don’t tell me I got the wrong horse.”

Pause. “You got the wrong horse.”

“Page?”  HER personal horse that I’ve never groomed or tacked before! Not to mention ridden!


“Do you want me to put him back? I don’t have to ride.”

“That’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

“Uh, I’ll only walk then. Maybe trot.” Oh my God! Heart be still.

“Ha, ha! You got the right horse.” I shoot her a questioning look.

“Really, that’s Rocco.” Whew!

I think I need more coffee. A LOT more coffee. Better yet…bed. That was way too mentally taxing for an early Saturday morning.