This morning, as I was gazing up into Famous’ soft, loving eye a thought crossed my mind. Do you think he knows? Do you think he knows how special he is, how many people would kill to have the opportunity to sit in his saddle, to run up the alleyway on him? Do you think he knows that yesterday, and so many days before that, he helped me to knock another goal off my list? Do you think he knows?
I’m not just talking about Famous here. He’s just the horse my mind goes to first because he’s mine. I’m talking about any horse who’s ever meant something. I’m talking about Sister (every horse named Sister because clearly that name gives them wings or something), Ripp, Stingray, Babyflo, Foxy, Elvis, Eddy… The list goes on. I’m talking about great horses. Do you think they know?
There are times I watch Famous (I spend alot of time doing this… I pinch myself a lot over him too) and I think he has no idea. He just knows his life is pretty great. He gets fed good. He gets nice stuff that makes him feel good. He gets to play with friends all the time and he has a human mom who tells him every day how much she loves him. He has it made.
Then there are days that I think he must know. Those days are usually the ones when leading him to the barn is a game of strategy to dodge his front feet and teeth. Those are usually the same days that he makes a good attempt to buck me off. That’s right, cat’s out of the bag people… Life with Famous isn’t all sunshine and butterflies. He’s kind of arrogant. He has the kind of arrogance that someone who knows he’s great would have. So he must know… Right?
A few years back I had a conversation with a friend. She was commenting about always having doubt that her horse was good enough. I surprised myself by saying “from the moment they’re born I try to always believe they’re gonna be great.” I often wonder if that has the same impact as that rice experiment… You know, the one where you say rude things to one jar of rice every day and nice things to a second jar. At the end of a month the results are startling. The “rude” jar turns all sorts of gross colors. The nice jar is thriving with health. Famous has never been told he’s anything less than amazing. Even when he wasn’t great, he was admired for living. Would he be different if he’d been told he would never become anything? Was Sister told she’d be great from day one?
So, as I sit here waiting to get the big guy ready for his run today, I’m occupying myself with these thoughts… Because that’s just what I do. I wonder if he knows just how much he’s done for me and just how special he really is 💕 I hope he does 😊