Safety Whistle

Last November, David bought himself a horse. He fancied a well-trained ranch horse that could assist him with things such as, but not limited to: checking his herd, lassoing calves, castrating calves, tagging calves, sorting cattle and avoiding interior house design remodel projects his wife dreams of.

So. He bought a horse. The horse was a girl . . . a mare, if you will. She needed a bit more training, and he found someone who could train her. He asked me if I would like to go with him, and here were the details I was given:

*The horse would be gone for at least a month.

*This would be costing money.

*We would need to take the horse to the trainer-over two hours away.

*He did not know when she would get picked up.

*I could get a complimentary latte if I went with him.

So, we loaded the horse, who was yet to be named, and started the trek to this horse trainer, lattes in hand.

When we arrived, I was a tad confused, seeing as how there was no home or shelter-for man or horse. The trainer-let’s call him “Rusty” greeted us and I quickly ascertained he was pleased to meet our acquaintance. He just rapid fired a whole bunch of statements at us.

“I hope she is your sister!” (?)

“Wow! Are you two Native Americans, or are you just really tan?” (We were neither. It was November)

“Dave! Do you like polo? You look like a guy who likes polo. I am starting a team. You in?”

“I don’t let the grass grow too long under my feet. If you know what I mean.”

“You get me, Dave. I can tell. Not many people get me.”

“Dave! I got a new weed eating tool! Wanna see?”

I would like you to all understand that this is the first time David has ever met this person. And as we followed Rusty to join him in his admiration of the weed eating tool, I asked David where on earth he found this guy?

His answer?

Facebook Marketplace.

Seems like a red flag to me.

Rusty was very excited about his weed eating tool, but he could not figure out how to work it. I could tell it was new because it still had the tags on it. Now, this may have been Rusty’s first experience with David Maliblahblah, but it sure wasn’t mine and I knew that my David could figure out a weed eating tool like nobody’s business. And I was right. David demonstrated to Rusty just how he could use the weed eating tool with ease. Because David is all that is man.

Rusty and I were both equally impressed.

Please be aware that our poor horse has never even made it out of her trailer at this point. So we suggested we backtrack and go get the horse. On our way, Rusty found a lone beer can in the grass. He picked it up. He offered it to us. We declined. He drank the beer.

As soon as David unloaded the horse, Rusty became all thrilled-like and shouted, “Woo! That horse just tripled my property value!”

Seemed like a red flag.

In fairness to all, the mare was a total beaut. David had been struggling with a name and was trying to decide between Nora and Annie. He had decided it could wait, but Rusty insisted the horse be named right then.

Reader. There is an unsavory truth I must tell you about David.

He has gotten old and can no longer hear well.

David: What?

Me: He wants you to name the horse!

David: Huh?

Me: You need to pick a name! NAME THE HORSE!

David: Oh, ok. Nora.

Me to Rusty: The horse’s name is Nora.

Rusty: Nope. That’s not her name try again.

Me: Ok. How about Annie?

Rusty: Oh, that’ll do nicely!

And for the remainder of our time with Rusty, he referred to the horse as Annie. That will be important later on.

David and Rusty got right to work on talking about all things horse. I got distracted by the world’s cutest puppy. Rusty told me, “She got kicked real bad in the head by a horse yesterday. She’s not quite right today.”

Which seemed like a red flag.

As the men were talking horse talk, I was taking a gander at Nora/Annie’s new housing situation.

Here is what I noticed:

*No shelter.

*One very full truck bed that maybe contained a bed for Rusty.

*A corral.

*A horse tied to said corral.

*A goat tied to a tree.

*A stand alone bathtub near a creek.

*A recliner chair facing the creek.

*The remains of one beer can.

*One very nice weed eater tool that was now able to be properly used thanks to my husband.

*A cute puppy who was not right in the head.

After some time, David was wrapping things up and we loaded in the truck and started to drive away.

Me: David! Where will she live? Where does he live? Is that where he lives?

David: I don’t know

Me: DAVID. Are you sure she is safe? Should you leave her with him? Do you think the goat feels safe?

David: I don’t know. Hey, did you noticed he kept calling her Annie even after I named her Nora?

Me: Yeah! He told you he didn’t like Nora. He renamed her. She is now Annie. How did you miss that?

David: Oh.

Me: DAVID. IS SHE SAFE? SHOULD WE LEAVE HER WITH A SAFETY WHISTLE?

David; I don’t know.

****

Fast forward about a month later. Rusty calls David and tells him Annie is not the horse for him. But he has another horse, an even better horse, and he will deliver her on Christmas Day.

And Annie was never seen from or heard of again.

Which seems like a red flag to me.

On Christmas Day, David got his horse. She was also a beaut, but now David was back to square one with naming.

Carson’s wife, Yesi, is very good with horses. Soon after we got this horse, she, David, and Carson decided to try out the horse and she got bucked off.

Which seemed like something a trained horse shouldn’t do. But what do I know?

And then there were weeks where David would spend an hour each afternoon just trying to get her to come to him.

Which seemed like something a trained horse should do. You know. Come? I don’t know.

So David started to feed her sugar cubes to lure her to him.

Me: You should name her Eliza Jane. Because she doesn’t care what anyone tells her. She’s not gonna let anyone boss her around. Just like Almanzo’s big, know-it-all sister in Farmer Boy.

So she was named Eliza Jane.

Eliza Jane has grown on us, but we are not sure she is exactly the trained horse David thought he was getting.

Me: David! Did you get rolled?

David: I think I did.

David has decided he needs to get a second horse. I know, I know. He has a problem. It’s gone too far, I cannot fix him. For some reason, he is telling people he needs to get a horse for me.

Me.

I would like the records to show that I have no desire to sit atop a horse. I don’t mind looking at horses. I don’t mind petting horses. I mean them no ill-will. But riding them?

Not for me.

Oh, my teacher friends get such delight out of this vision of David’s. We imagine David fancies that we will get home from work after our respective jobs, saddle up our horses, and check our lands and cattle on horseback together. This must be what empty-nesters do.

Sadly, he has yet to find the horse for me. He has not given up hope.

A couple of weeks ago, the farrier came to take care of Eliza Jane’s feet and the first thing he said to David was:

“Oh! That’s a pregnant horse!”

Me: David! Is Eliza Jane pregnant!?

David: I have no idea.

Me: Did Rusty tell you there was a chance she was pregnant when she came here on Christmas Day?

David: He did not.

Me: David! Did you get rolled?

David: Maybe.

Me: DAVID! The baby! The baby can be my horse! You can stop your searching. I will love the baby. That one will be mine.

David:

Me: