8:05 a.m.
Me: Hello Tango! Up and at ’em! We’re going for a trail ride to keep you fresh and happy in your ring work. I’m not at all nervous that we have to walk for at least twenty minutes along a busy road. After all, this is a rural area. People in Cedar know to slow down when they see a horse on the road.
Tango: —-
8:35
Me: Okay, big guy. You’re all tacked up, so I’ll just strap on my brilliant orange reflective vest and we’ll be ready to go. Now don’t look at me like that! I’m putting your halter back on because I’m going to LEAD you along the road until we reach the trail. I don’t have disability. No way I’m riding you.
Tango: (Gives unimpressed look. Chews a bit on lead rope.)
8:37
Me: Look at us! We are practically Monty Roberts, the horse whisperer guy who wrote Shy Boy, the book about that mustang he tamed out on the open range without even a rope or anything. That’s how in touch with trail riding we are! In a minute we might even be at the end of the driveway!
Tango: Clop, clop, clop.
8:40
Me: For god’s sake would you chill out? It’s a horse. It’s behind a fence. It’s not going to kill you. There’s no need to snort like a dragon who just spotted a princess. You are such a red-headed drama king sometimes, but I have to admit you look quite handsome with your neck all arched, prancing along like that. When you look this good I don’t even mind that you are my single biggest expense.
Tango: Snort, snort.
8:45
Me: Okay, we are about to reach the first road with traffic. Don’t be a dick. Just keep it together. This trail ride extremely important for your mental health. Could you stop pulling already? My arm is killing me.
Tango: Snort, snort.
8:50
Me: Okay, now I have to lead you through the gas station to get to Holden Corso Road. Would you please stop pulling on me? I think my arms are going to fall off. God, why does that stupid motorcycle have to pull in now? I’m never watching stupid Orange County Chopper again. From now on I will only watch horse friendly shows such as Littlest Hobo and The Office.
Tango: Snort! Snort!
8:52
Me: We made it! We walked through the gas station! Right through the motorbikes and the trucks and everything. We are one third of the way there! I think I’m going to write a book about this. I’ll call it Not So Shy Boy Walks Through a Gas Station… If I wasn’t hanging on to the lead rope so tight to keep you from taking off I’d make a note of that.
Tango: Snort, snort.
8:54
Me: We’re on Holden Corso. So far, so good. Hardly any cars. This is going pretty well. I may start hiring myself out as a trail guide and you as a trail horse.
Tango: Snort, snort. Clop, clop.
8:55
Me: Hey! That guy didn’t even slow down. It’s okay, Tango. Whoa, boy. Keep it together.
Tango: Clippety-clop, SNORT!
8:56
Me: What the –? Way to drive by going NINETY you jerk! It’s okay, T. You’ll be fine.
Tango: Scrape, clatter, clatter. SNORT!! SNORT!!
Me: Oh my god. We are going to be killed.
8:57
Me: You FREAKING IDIOT! SLOW DOWN! WHAT KIND OF RURAL PERSON ARE YOU WHO DOESN’t KNOW TO SLOW DOWN AROUND HORSES? ARE YOU FROM VANCOUVER OR SOMETHING????
Tango: SNORT!!! SNORT!!!
9:03
Me: Oh crap. Great. A yard sale. I thought once we got off Holden Corso we’d be okay. Now we have to get through big line ups of indecisive drivers and big bunches of balloons.
Tango: (Balloons?)
9:05
Me: Whoa! Whoa!
Tango: Scrape, clatter, clatter. SNORT!!! SNORT!!!!
9:10
Me: I hate balloons. But look! It’s the trailhead!
Tango: (Ears pricked forward with interest rather than alarm for the first time in almost thirty minutes.)
9:12
Me: See? Isn’t this lovely? The trees and ferns and long grasses? The soft cedar chip path underfoot? There was no need to get all sweaty and nearly tear my arm out of its socket.
Tango: Clip, clop. (Nose clearing noise that indicates relaxation.)
10:00
Me: Damn. The trail ride is over already. I can’t believe I have to walk you back along that road. My arm is still trembling from exhaustion. I don’t know if I can do this.
Tango: Clip, clop. (Snatches at a bit of grass along the path. Chews contentedly.)
10:05
Me: Goddamn yard sale. Hate the yard sale.
Tango: Clip, clop.
10:09
Me: SLOW DOWN SHITWEED! CAN’T YOU SEE I’M WEARING A REFLECTIVE VEST HERE! I’M LEADING A THIRTEEN HUNDRED POUND HORSE! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE HIM TO SPOOK AND END UP GOING THROUGH YOUR WINDSHIELD? HUH?
Tango: Clip, clop.
10:16
Me: YOU TOO, DIRTBAG! JUST CAUSE YOU HAVE A KAYAK ON YOUR ROOF YOU THINK YOU CAN DRIVE PAST GOING 80? IF THIS HORSE SPOOKS AND YOU HIT HIM YOU’RE PAYING THE VET BILLS! BECAUSE I’M WEARING MY REFLECTIVE VEST!!!
Tango: Clip, clop. (Snatches at grass on roadside while I scream and gesture at traffic going in both directions. Idly swishes away fly with tail.)
10:22
Me: Gas stations are a blight on the environment. I goddamn hate gas stations.
Tango: Clip, clop.
10:24
Me: I don’t know why people let their horse hang around right next to the road. I hate horses that are next to the road.
Tango: Clip, clop.
10:29
Me: Well, I hope you enjoyed your trail ride because I’m completely shattered. I really am. You’re going to need to put yourself away because I need to go and lie down in the car and listen to some soothing music.
Tango: —- (Chews lead rope in a contented way.)
Back in the ring where we belong…