How Do You Do It?!

“Where I come from, a horse is the star of the show.”               

“How’s that?”

“Well,” the horse sat down and held out a hoof. “I was a star back in the day. It was all about the show biz, the lights and the glory. Oh,” the horse shook its head, its mane dancing in the cool wind back here at the barn—specifically, the horse stalls. “The glory! It was awesome—everyone taking pictures with me—and, I can’t forget my handler. She would throw her hands in the air as she was way up high from the stage floor while on me, grinning ear to ear. She’d do that all the time, and then she groom me, clan my hooves and shovel my manure, replacing my stall with fresh hay, all the while a cheery grin and a better attitude while at it. she’d feed me apple slices, cutting part of her apple up all the time and giving me half, chuckling and teasing me as I snuck some salt cubes from her hand or pocket. Sometimes, she’d let me run wild and free on the mountain trails over yonder. How we would run for miles, the wind rushing through my mane and her curly hair! Whistling for me when I had run off, she’d pet me and even spend nights without sleep just so I’d get better whenever I was sick. What a handler. She was almost like my owner.” The stallion sighed. “Wish she was.”

I mean, they were people, not animals. It’s weird, but yeah, I got it right every time. The act, I mean! I would sing a song, and sometimes, I would bring out my trusty guitar.” The horse looked out his horse stall to a patch of hay, on which lay a guitar case. Studded with quartz diamonds, it boasted of a silk black feel and, the horse claimed, was worth millions of dollars.

“Really?” The surprised horse snorted. “I… I don’t remember anyone being like that at the Falls Stalls back in Kentucky. I mean, wow! What a show, I bet.”

The horse bobbed his head. “Yes, yes. It was all fun and games until I broke my ankle—actually, all four of them—when I went a little haywire on stage. I was singing and dancing, but I slipped and fell. That cost me one ankle. Then, when that one healed, I was running around a track out back but thought I could run really quick on stage all the way around backstage. But that cost me two ankles. The last one—I just…” He shook his head guiltily. “I was heading out when the show ended, and I guess my handler didn’t see the fence. I tried warning him with all my neighing and snorting and stamping, but he ignored it all! And then, I tried getting away from the stupid gate, but my ankle got caught. The cowboy was pulling, and he twisted, and a huge crack sounded. I was terrified—my eyes bulged, my throat released a scream of fury and I almost got away with kicking the cowboy in the chest with my three good hooves. I would’ve possibly killed him if he hadn’t leaped out of the way. But he threw hurtful words at me and swung at me. Abusive, I would say!”

The horse jerked his head in agreement. “Totally! I would’ve leaped up and screamed at him. I would’ve acted all scary. Was it lightning outside?”

The horse laughed, and shook his head. “Too bad it wasn’t. I would’ve risen up in that white light and widened my eyes. But I didn’t. But you needn’t worry—I’m due back on stage in a few weeks. All ankles healed. The cowboy? He’s out there, bailing hay or something like that. It’s pathetic—but he deserves it. He was cruel!”

The horse nodded, his eyes away from the other horse. “Too bad you couldn’t save yourself.” He spoke softly, jerking his eyes over to the other horse. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend—”

The first horse’s mane flicked to and fro as the horse shook his neck. “No, no, amigo. I’m cool. Just going back there. No more wild antics this time. Or I’m out for good!”

The horse just nodded his head. “You ever consider acting?”

“No.” The horse snorted fiercely. “No! I hated it. I tried out for a movie, and I barely made it out of there without a cameraman noticing. I wouldn’t give the stage for anything. But I would throw any trace of acting into the manure pile!”

The horses laughed at this, a hearty fun time. The second horse stayed silent, but the first horse said, “I want you to know I was a selfish horse back then. I didn’t care. I charged at that cowboy, causing his eyes to widen in horror and fists to fly in rage. I am partly at fault for being such a pony—an immature pony. I can’t believe I had attacked him. Though he was cruel, he still didn’t deserve my wrath for my own antics. I mean, it wasn’t his fault I was being stupid up there. I wish…I wish I wouldn’t have been such a fool.”

The horse looked away towards the guitar. He drowned himself in memories of such a wild time, swinging on just one hoof at one point. Showing off. Being a weirdo. But it was evident, the horse knew, that he wasn’t the only one to act wrongly. The cowboy—that cowboy had punched his very nose verbally with all the ugly words his brain could concoct and his mouth could utter. Such a man needed some lessons to learn!

“Does that cowboy get a second chance?”

The horse asked gently. “Um, I don’t know. I don’t think so—” The horse stared off, looking at the stall door and then the guitar case. He gritted his teeth. Get me out of here! His nose flared and his eyes flashed. He reared up, neighed and then strived to bust himself out of there. When all attempts failed, he stepped back and jumped, the other horse yelling at him for attempting to jump clean of the stall.

“No, man! No. What are you doing? You must stop this. You’re going to end all chances of—”

“Shut up, Hailey’s Comet. I know what I’m doing! She needs to ride me again. The show must go on.” The stallion snapped at him.

The horse reared back, his eyes sparkling with hurt, but the stallion’s eyes were locked on that guitar case. No amount of weeks was going to happen. He had to make it—he was the star of the show! As he dashed over to the guitar case, snatched it and then headed out of the stall altogether, the other horse chastising him.

“You’re going to ruin your second chance! You’re going to be put back in this stall—unable to perform anything but mournful tunes.”

But the stallion had already exited the stalls, all the way over with his handler, her soft hand running over his mane again and again. With the stallion on the way to the stage, there was no stopping him. The horse sighed and shook his head. Seeing a mirror from over at Penny’s stall (for she was too vain to leave her home), he grabbed his 1930’s Bristol Tweed Driver Cap and flipped it onto his head. Landing perfectly, the hat sat right between his ears. Someone down the stall whistled and congratulated him for the trick. The horse nodded humbly.

“Yes—thank you.” He grinned. He turned towards his stall, but thought twice about such a stupid act. “This horse is going to suffer. He’ll be back right here beside me. With my hat, I can tell him to stop being so proud. Why, I’ll be his acting buddy. He can pretend to be so arrogant, knowing it’s just a show!”

The horse had completed his show but then was taken back to his stall. The handler opened the door but then the stallion reared, the handler waiting patiently, her face contorted in what the horse thought was annoyance, and rolled his eyes. Her hand on the black whip, she took it out, cracking it. This horse needed to calm down! But, no, the stallion raced away, his mind on that cowboy. He’ll teach a thing or two about such a hurtful act!

He’ll tell him to act all arrogant. That’ll teach him!

When the stallion failed to find the man, he shook his head, snickering to himself. “Don’t get it, don’t get it.” He was coming into the stall, the other horse snorting, his laughter coated in sarcasm.

“Don’t get it, either, man!” He laughed loud and long, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Why are you so frustrating to train?”

“Because I’m wild and free!”

“No one wants a jerk for a friend. A neighbor. I’m busting out of here. If you don’t—”

“Listen, I’ll—”

“Listen to what? Mr. Holier-Than-Thou? I’d rather eat stale hay!”

“Yeah, because that’ll keep your mouth shut!” The stallion ignored Hailey's Comet's irritated gaze. Cocking his head a certain way, the stallion tried busting out again—his hooves pounding against the wood. Thankfully, it gave way, and the door became a splintered mess. In the morning, the stallion’s handler gasped as she stared, open-mouthed, at the stallion’s work.

“Where is he?”

She spun around. “Please—I don’t know! He goes right in his stall when I guide him into it—”

“You’re fired. No one lets my horses go.”

“I didn’t do anything. My stallion—”

“Oh, so you’re blaming the horse, huh? Horses don’t know better. They’re horses. And if you ever let any one of these horses go, I’ll beat you down.”

“Beat me down?” Her face crinkled, and then she glared at him. “Steal my money! I can sue.”

The man snickered. “Whatever. I’ll win.”

The girl, teary-eyed and punching the micro-managing cowboy with words of disgust, traveled to another ranch that day. The man stayed, beating the horses, calling them horrible names and just outright screaming orders at them as they left their stalls so he could clean up their poop and repopulate their stalls with hay. Hurrying them along, he grabbed a pitchfork to scare them into leaping out of the stalls the same way the stallion had escaped his enclosure. After scaring the stallion’s new handler into cleaning for him one day, the man bullied the stallion into demonstrating his best dance moves on stage. The stallion showed off, but never broke an ankle. The handler got right up on stage and tried calming the stallion, but to no avail. Soon, the stallion charged, heading straight for the man he remembered was the abusive cowboy attacking him back at the gate!

The handler yelled for the man to hurl himself out of the way, but the man didn’t hear her. He raised his arms to his face, and curled up into a ball, ordering the stallion to knock it off! The rearing didn’t stop, though. The stallion screamed, the lights illuminating his mad eyes and high position as a horse on two back legs, up in the air.

The handler jumped in front of the leg-kicking stallion, motioning for him to quit this madness. The stallion snorted but obeyed. The handler, face rigid, jerked the reign she held after capturing the stallion with it, and marched away from the stage. “You’re going nowhere near that stage, stallion! You’re staying here!”

She swatted at him, he snorting. But she rolled her eyes, and snarled, “You better watch your back. Or I’ll get on it and force you to carry me!”

The stallion stayed quiet, and the handler bobbed her head. “Bye—and maybe for forever.”

The stallion watched her go. He looked down. He closed his eyes. Memories of the last handler swirled in his mind. He smiled, or at least was told he was. Smiling to himself. “That’s because I have lost a special friend. That handler isn’t nice compared to my last handler.”

“Who?”

“My last handler—”

“No, I heard you. You just need to prove that to me. If you want her to return, I suggest an attitude change would have to happen.”

The stallion stayed quiet. He didn’t bust out of his new stall door that had been made for him by the new handler and a sheriff from downtown. But he stared out at the pasture, heaving sighs so hard to ignore Hailey’s Comet squeezed his eyes and threatened to bust out of his own stall. “Quit with the depression, man!”

“I’m not depressed, hombre. I’m just triste. Muy triste.”

“What?”

“Just sad—”

“No, I know what you said. Just keep it to yourself.”

The stallion looked over. “You know Spanish?”

“Yeah. From you. Some words. At least enough to understand you when you’re upset.”

Hailey’s Comet was lead out to pasture twenty-five years later at the ripe old age of twenty-nine. One year later, he became very sick. Not-allowed-near-the-stallion sick. The stallion put on a show right outside the barn to the delight of the new handler and the cowboy and Hailey’s Comet. All three cheered, the people hearing Hailey’s Comet’s words as neighs and snickers. “Wow—still up to speed. Never lost that passion!”

The stallion bobbed his head humbly.

Both horses were returned to their stalls, Hailey’s Comet living five stalls away. Complete opposite ends of one side of the stall. Suddenly, the crack of the whip was heard, and Hailey’s Comet screamed.

“So we’re at it again, aren’t we?”

The stallion snorted and jerked his head, like he was telling this man that yes, we are! He threw his head up, neighing and rearing with his hind legs. The man dashed over to the stall, threw it open after unlocking it and then challenged in a loud voice, “Come on! Fight me, you stupid animal.”

The stallion backed up into his stall, his eyes, Hailey’s Comet muttered, glittering with reluctance. The man, however, dashed away, returning with his new handler’s whip. “Come on!” He snapped that whip at the stallion, Hailey’s Comet rearing. The stallion told Hailey’s Comet to stop, to which Hailey’s Comet busted out of his stall, kicking his hooves at the man. His hat on his head, he reared again, shaking his head, his mane flying. Neighing that told the stallion to shut his mouth, Hailey’s Comet stamped a hoof in protest to the man’s livid face.

“Come on!”

The stallion shook his head. Hailey’s Comet, ignoring the stallion’s snickers, kicked the man in the chest. Collapsing backwards onto the dirt and muddy earth, the man took a deep strangled breath and then lay still. The stallion, Hailey’s Comet saw, widened his eyes in terror. “You killed him!”

“No—” Hailey’s Comet shook his head, backing away slowly. “No, no. I—I couldn’t have.”

“Yeah—I think you did!” A horse’s voice rang out, Hailey’s Comet desperate to wake up and see the man being chased away by the stallion, his handler and the audience cheering. But this was no dream. The nightmare that was. And is. And always will be—

“Hailey’s Comet. Hailey’s Comet!”

Hailey’s Comet’s eyes flashed open. He looked around. It was a dream. Then he looked over—and jerked back, neighing intensely. He even reared, his white teeth bared, and his ears pinned back. Hailey’s Comet was right when it came to the blaming cowboy’s hurts and falls. But the stallion received the whip. At first, he kicked at the man, lunging for his chest. But the cowboy dodged again and again, goading the stallion to even hurt him. The stallion bucked, shaking his mane.

Great! Hope he learns a lesson. Never anger a horse. Or you’ll get kicked.

The cowboy wasn’t looking when he got too close to a horse’s tail. He said he was going to clean out the hooves before shoveling out the manure and replacing the yucky stall with fresh hay. But those chores never got done. The handler, eyes filled with tears, shook her head, wondering whether the man ever had any love in his life. She smelled horse on the man, and always did. Years later, the stallion saw his old handler. Leaping into the air and letting out neigh after neigh of excitement, the horse dashed over to his former trainer. She ignored him at first, but then looked over at him. Shaking his mane, he waited to remember him.

The stallion blinked. She probably knows about my stupid behavior up on stage.

The handler just looked like her. Hailey’s Comet wanted to give him a hat of his own. The stallion grinned but declined. He stayed silent for a few weeks. Hailey’s Comet asked about this.

“My handler—my last one. She was always there, assuring me everything would be okay. Now—she probably forgot about me.”

“Stallion?”

The stallion looked over. A familiar voice, maybe a little worn from age, lured him over to her. Putting her hands up to the stallion’s muzzle, she squinted her eyes. “Are you…?”

The stallion mentally screamed at her to remember him. Shaking his mane, he reared up, performing a routine. She shook her head. The stallion strived to prove himself on and off stage for the next few weeks during her visit. But he never regained the love they both had for each other. The stallion broke through his stall, and Hailey’s Comet dashed off with him. Traveling throughout the grassy plains of Prince Edward Island, the two horses lived as wild horses, blending in with the other ones.

They never returned to the stalls, but the stallion forgot his old handler.

I guess, he pulled dewy grass, I guess it’s time for me to let go. Just like she did.