Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Curly ~ Part 1

Curly was something else. And by something else, I mean not conventional in any way other than having four legs, a mane, and a tail. Actually, he didn’t even really have a mane or a tail either. You see, when Curly arrived at Bar S in the middle of the summer, he was nearly bald. He had a few curly sprigs where his mane should have been and a few wiry hairs poking out the end of his tail. Short blond hair covered the rest of his body, though in some places it was more like peach fuzz. Where his elephant-like tail had been trying in vain to swat flies, he had rubbed two bald spots right on his butt cheeks. Curly was not attractive, and downright pathetic.

Naturally, I fell madly in love with this pitiful creature that everyone laughed at. Such is my way much of the time. I saw the intelligence in his pretty brown eyes, the brave curiosity in the way he checked out the world, the tender side of him when he leaned his head into you while you scratched.

Curly belonged to a rare breed called a Bashkir Curly, which is most noted for its hardy and gentle nature, and of course, a curly coat. It took some research to figure out what kind of horse he was, since his curls were not blatantly apparent when he first arrived. We noticed that his mustache was curly, the sprigs of mane were curly, his eyelashes were curly, and the hair inside his ears was curly. With that information and some online searching we discovered the little-known Bashkir breed, and saw that his conformation and character fit the description to a tee.

Curly had been brought to Bar S to be a rent horse, but he was just too different looking without a mane or a tail for most people to want to ride him. This was heartbreaking for me, but thankfully Curly had no clue the judgment that was being passed on him, and it gave me all the more reason to dote on him. Dote on him I did, until the two of us were about as attached as horse and human could be. I loved him, he loved me, and I was ready to put down all my hard-earned money to pay his monthly board so he could be mine. My parents would need to be the ones to buy him, though, and somehow I finally managed to talk them into helping me purchase this pitiful-looking creature.

A few days before my parents were able to make our purchase proposal to the owner, I headed down to the barn to spend some time with my sweet Curly. When I got there, I was soberly informed that Curly had been trailered off somewhere, that the owner had realized he shouldn’t be a rent horse and was selling him. My world was spinning. I couldn’t believe it. I loved that horse, and he had just been yanked away from me without even a goodbye! I would never see him again- I had no idea where he got shipped to, and no way to find out who ended up with him. I felt sick. Sobbing, I called my mom to come pick me up- I couldn’t walk home like this.

She arrived moments later and I fell sobbing into the back seat. I just remember Mom saying over and over again “Just pray for his return, just keep praying for him to come back. We’ll all pray for him to come back.” So I did. I prayed and I cried and I prayed some more and cried some more. My heart hadn’t just been broken this time; it had been wrenched in two.

To be continued tomorrow . . .

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