Bedtime Stories

It's been a busy time here at the farm, with two horse shows back-to-back (pictures of Odie the mule jumping cross country to come). Argus felt good after his work with Dr. Guyton, and he's continued to straighten out and build muscle. He's a lot more in his body these days.

Argus has been rather naughty lately, but in a good way. A "normal" horse way, the way you'd expect a 2-year-old horse to be. He and Ridge escaped the pasture a few nights ago (I left the gate open), and spent one glorious hour wandering around the grounds at dusk, before my son said "Hey mom! There are two white ghosts in the yard!"

I ignored Ethan, because it was bedtime and he's famous for his diversionary tactics. We went back to reading "Giant Tales" and I nudged him under the covers. After a few minutes, Ethan peered out his window and said "I think there are horse ghosts in the yard." His eyes twinkled. I peered out to look: Sure enough, two faint white ghosts roamed the perimeter of the vegetable garden, plotting.

Outside, Argus and Ridge stood staring at my tomatoes. Argus, who could not see the chicken wire fence of the veggie garden, plunged half-heartedly into the fencing. My heart stopped as I calmly took off my sweatshirt, cooing to him. I was thinking: We've come too far to lose him to a vegetable garden accident!

Dear Argus stood with his characteristic quizzical expression while I wrapped my sweatshirt around his neck. He led back to the barn like this was part of our daily routine, Ridge shuffling shamefully alongside him. The two horses sighed, their adventure in the "outside world" cut short. They seemed relieved to go back into the pasture.

I wonder how curious Argus is about this outside world. I've written before about how excited he is to see the trailer now. Sunday was no exception. Early Sunday morning, we loaded Odie the mule and Ginger the Shetland pony for a show in Marin County. Argus watched calmly, now used to the appearance of the trailer on weekend mornings, the slow disappearance of his friends down the bumpy gravel driveway, and their long-awaited return at day's end.

When we returned late that evening after a long, dusty day, Argus greeted Odie warmly at the gate. Odie rolled, shook out the last of his braids, and high-tailed it out to pasture. Argus followed dutifully behind. I wondered what their campfire stories would be like that night, with Odie impressing his pasture mates with tall tales of monster jumps. Ridge, I am sure, was one-upping him with stories of his dressage career. Dueling old show horses in the field.

Argus, I can imagine, listened intently, his eyes wide, just like a little boy tucked under the covers enjoying a bedtime story.